She's Not My Daughter
by MalibuSwede
Summary: Gale Leery's unique perspective on Joey Potter, the girl she has been known to call her surrogate daughter. Drama, romance, angst, resolution...a little bit of everything as we follow Joey through the years. Complete.
1. Chapter 1

**She's Not My Daughter**

…but she could have been. Mike Potter and I dated first—before he met and fell in love with my best friend, Lillian Stanbury. Lillian was a few years older than I. We met in college. Actually, I was going to Wesleyan and she was the day manager at our favorite greasy spoon. She was taking extension classes at night and I often ran into her on campus. We used to compare notes about guys and even went out on a few double dates; our tastes in men were very similar.

The next thing I knew, my ex had swept her off her feet and lured her back to Capeside on the promise of opening up their very own restaurant as soon as they had saved enough money. I didn't find out until months later that she was pregnant and they had rushed into marriage. It wasn't a loveless marriage by any means, but Mike was the desired one in the power position and Lily was simply the one who loved.

Bessie was scarcely a year old when Lily became pregnant again. She miscarried in her second trimester and was devastated. Two years later, after Mitch and I moved into our first house, Lily and I discovered that we were both expecting. She lost her second child weeks before I did and we bonded in our mutual misery.

Imagine our elation three years later when we both became pregnant within months of each other; Dawson was due in March, Joey in late September. We were both scared and often comforted each other. The fact that Dawson was such an easy birth cheered her enormously. "He seems to have all the prerequisite fingers and toes," she said, marveling at his bright blue eyes and healthy red cheeks.

Joey's appearance was a much different story. She couldn't seem to make up her mind if she was coming out or not and poor Lillian, painfully overdue to begin with, spent 36 hours in labor. Just shy of the birth canal, Joey stuck her arms out like she had no intention of leaving; the outline of her fingers could be seen in her mother's abdomen and the OB prepared for a C-section. Suddenly, before she had a chance to reconsider, she loosened her grip and shot straight out.

Yet despite the pain she caused, when Joey finally emerged—kicking and screaming, I might add—both Mike and Lily fell in love with her instantly. She was their little miracle. Big brown eyes—did she really have such long lashes then?—chocolate brown hair, and I remember her having long fingers for such a tiny one.

Shortly after her birth, Mitch and I moved to Boston where I had a job offer at a network affiliate. We didn't return to Capeside for nearly five years. In the meantime, the Potter marriage had gone through its ups and downs, but Lily remained amazingly positive. The Potter family restaurant was still an unfulfilled dream and Lily was working two jobs to keep the family afloat; Mike worked part-time in a machine shop downtown.

Dawson hadn't made any friends in Capeside yet and with school starting I suggested to Lily that she could leave Joey with us anytime she wanted to. After awhile it was no longer a matter of choice, Dawson wouldn't have it any other way. He and Joey appeared joined at the hip—I thought it was perfectly innocent and even charming at the time.

By the end of his first school year, Dawson had become pals with Pacey Witter as well. They were complete opposites, but that seemed to be the thing that Dawson liked most about him; Pacey dared him to do things that he would never do on his own. Thankfully, most of it was pretty harmless but I did call John Witter when his son brought over a pile of firecrackers and set them off in our front yard to scare the birds out of the trees. I guess his sisters made him watch _Steel Magnolias_ one too many times.

Joey and Pacey… Well, that was another story. They competed so fiercely for Dawson's attention and my gorgeous son reveled in it, often purposely playing them off against each other. With them at odds, it did keep his concerns front and center, while he happily played the role of understanding friend to both. I'm surprised that they ever managed to get along, but every once in awhile you caught a glimmer of something special between them: Pacey holding her hand when she was scared by noises in the dark, Joey looking at him a certain way when he was trying to show off his muscles, their mutual pleasure in giving Dawson a hard time when he admittedly got too full of himself.

They were a co-dependent lot, a mini-Three Musketeers, and we were naively reticent about breaking that dependency, especially after Joey's mother died. Breast cancer. Although I never could have voiced it while Lillian was alive, I had come to think of Joey as my surrogate daughter —no, it was deeper than that. On nights when she would stay over to watch movies with our son, Mitch and I felt like the Leery's were a family of four.

When Joey was eight years old, she broke her arm falling off a swing and I was the one who rushed her to the hospital. I remember how hard Dawson tried to keep her from crying, comforting her in the back seat, telling her everything was going to be OK. She was more embarrassed than anything; she had been trying to show off and it backfired.

She was so funny and bright…and irritating and obstinate…and charming. But what endeared her to me was her innate vulnerability. When she was going through a bad time, and she looked at you with those liquid brown eyes, you just wanted to do anything to make things better for her, anything to protect her from harm.

After Mike Potter was arrested for drug trafficking, Bessie and I had a long talk. Poor Bess. She was a mere 22 and so overwhelmed by the responsibilities now foisted upon her. She had no idea how to raise a teenager. When Joey had her first menstrual period, Bess tried to sit her down for "the talk" and, by her own admission, had failed miserably— though if her story was accurate, she certainly did better than the pitiful lecture I got in the Girl Scouts!

Bessie was also terrified about all the obstacles being thrown at teens in this modern era. How could she possibly steer Joey clear of that horror? Managing an opinionated teen of my own, I was dealing with many of the same issues for the first time and I promised Bess that I would look out for Joey, offering whatever support she was willing to accept. Because if recent events had changed anything for Joey Potter, it was to make her even more strong-willed and independent. She would turn and walk the other way if she thought you were doing something because you felt sorry for her; she didn't suffer pity or charity lightly.

I don't know when I first figured out that her feelings for Dawson went beyond mere friendship. Initially, I believe it was Mitch who noticed the furtive glances…the discreet smiles whenever Dawson innocently grabbed her hand...the hurt looks when he seemed to ignore her. "I think little Joey is developing a crush on our son," Mitch told me as we watched her climbing up the ladder into Dawson's bedroom

"Maybe we should put a stop to the sleepovers," I replied, noting that puberty was coming on awfully fast. "Naw," Mitch insisted. "First of all, our son is completely oblivious to it. She's still Joey the tomboy to him. And I don't want either of them thinking they've done something wrong just by growing up." "Okay," I said tentatively. "But I think we should insist on open doors from now on." "Agreed. And no more doctor's house calls in the closet," Mitch said, laughing. I had forgotten about Pacey's bare-assed show two summers earlier.

"Of course, if you want to make a house call…" I whispered to my husband.

"The doctor is in!" he exclaimed, grabbing my hand and pulling me back into the very large, very dark closet under the first floor landing.

**zzzzzzzzzz**

I'm ashamed to admit that it was Joey who first discovered the truth about my "indiscretion". I'm not sure what tipped her off, but she made it clear in no uncertain terms what she thought about my reckless behavior. "Your actions affect others, they bleed into the lives of those around you," she said. Her eyes were piercing through my obvious dishonesty. "You know your 'reasons' for doing what you're doing? They can't possibly outweigh the everlasting damage that you're creating."

We don't talk about it now, but I remember that at the time what struck me hardest was that she was equally protective of Mitch _and_ Dawson. In fact, when I finally confessed the truth to my husband—rather symbolically during the middle of a hurricane—he fled outside and it was _Joey_ who watched over him from the porch, concerned that the car might be washed away at any minute. I loved her for that. I saw her scrunched in a corner, nervously smoking a cigarette, and I realized how our roles had reversed. She was playing the adult and I was acting like a child. Otherwise, I would have gone out there and grabbed that cigarette from her!

I should have. But I rarely saw her with a cigarette after that night. I found out later that Mitch had had a talk with her and she quit.

I can't even begin to describe the sense of pride I felt when I saw her presentation at the Miss Windjammer Pageant. One of the perks of being a local celebrity is that I was asked to be one of the judges for this normally archaic affair. With Joey and Pacey both competing I probably should have recused myself. But then these affairs are always so incestuous. Everyone was either related to or knew at least one of the contestants, and I figured I would be fairer than most.

When Joey first walked out in her evening gown, I knew that was going to be a problem. Don't get me wrong: Pacey was funny and charming and looked damn fine in a tux—but Joey just blew me away. Her rendition of "On My Own" from _Les Miserables_ was touching and heartfelt. Probably not as studied as the piano concerto played by Roberta Krum, the evening's winner, but impressive nonetheless. In terms of poise and maturity, however, I thought she had them all beat. If she had been a senior or even junior in school, I think she would have snagged that one extra vote she needed to win.

There was one area she won hands down, no one else was invited to apply—and that was in the quest for my son's heart. Why had it taken so long for him to open his eyes? I don't know. He and Jen weren't an item anymore. I think Joey was just too close to him for him to see her clearly. At the pageant, he saw her through the eyes of others, and through the lens of his video camera, realizing for the first time what she meant to him. Or maybe I'm giving him more credit than he deserves. He always idealized their friendship. Maybe he was being typically male and needed to see the physical change in order for him to recognize the beauty that she always was. Men can be so thick sometimes.

But I have an embarrassing admission to make: Mitch and I were so caught up in our own relationship drama that we failed to notice what was happening under our very eyes. When Joey and my son went upstate to visit her father in prison and they had to stay overnight, we didn't think twice about it. Mitch authorized the use of his credit card, thanked the motel clerk for allowing two minors to stay there, and we went straight to bed without another thought. Women can be so thick sometimes, too.

What we noticed when they got back was how quiet both of them were, how shy they'd suddenly become around each other. When Joey showed up for movie night and all we heard were QVC promos—something Dawson never tolerated—we knew something was up. That is, I did. Mitch still thought it was all completely innocent…until he noticed the lights out and the closed door.

It seems rather funny to think about it now. Given our history, why should we have been shocked to see our son making out with this gorgeous brunette? Was it because it was Joey? Or was it because it was surprising to suddenly view our son as a sexual creature? The same son who had always given us such a hard time about our healthy sex life.

Maybe it was surprising to think of little Joey Potter as a sexual being as well. There she was, with her hands caressing his neck and hair while _his_ hands were exploring God knows where. My son was nestled between her legs as they lay across the bottom of his bed. She had one foot up on the bed and the other was firmly on the ground—had they been testing out Dawson's theories about sex in movies?

What was comical, in retrospect, was that he was so flustered about being caught. He actually introduced Joey to us as if we hadn't known the girl for the better part of fifteen years. Actually, I take that back—his father was equally flustered, intent on offering the proper advice to his son as he was coming of age, but unable to articulate it. I know Dawson ribbed him about that "No hat, no glove" line for some time to come.

**zzzzzzzzzz**

So they were a couple. They were so cute together, I really was happy for both of them. I didn't tell them that, though, as things rapidly deteriorated between Mitch and I. Poor Dawson was having his illusions about perfect coupling shot down right and left. We tried our best not to involve him in our fights, but sometimes it was hard not to. There's nothing discreet about yelling epithets at the top of your lungs.

I think the constant bickering was as hard for Joey to take as it was for Dawson. Sometimes I blame myself for their first breakup. He was trying so hard to hold onto his "perfect" past, and that meant that he didn't want Joey to change either. She grew up faster than he did and he was trying to hold her back, reshape her into perfect girlfriend Joey.

One night I overheard them having a heated argument. For years she had wanted him to see the real Joey; she thought that's what he finally fell in love with—only to find him as self-absorbed as ever. Yes, I will admit it: my son lives in the center of his own special world. He took her adoration for granted, and I think the idea of being defined strictly as Dawson Leery's girlfriend was too much for her.

He didn't know how to hold her. I suspect—although I'm not completely sure of this—that he tried to move on her sexually before she was ready. Big mistake. Especially for two kids who had only seen each other as friends until recently. Especially for two friends who behaved more like brother and sister until recently. Imagine the Freudian underpinnings in that!

Dawson didn't even speak of their breakup until I asked him about movie night; I hadn't seen Joey in a couple of days. "She left me," he said very dramatically. It was only then that I realized that his bedroom window, usually open throughout the four seasons, was closed and locked. I discovered later the ladder had also been put away. "What happened?" "She kissed another boy," he said with no small measure of disgust.

I didn't dare go any further, but he kept talking—gushing, actually, with details of the school dance. "We were having a great time," he said. "She made me forget about…about…" I knew what he was trying to say. She made him forget about the scene he had just witnessed: Mitch leaving me and the crocodile tears that followed. He said something about changing partners and how she suddenly ran out of the room. When Dawson caught up with her she was apparently having a fight with this new boy, Jack.

"I don't think you're angry with me for kissing you," Dawson overheard the other boy say. "I think you're angry with yourself for kissing me back." "Schmuck," Dawson said. He must've learned that one from his film buddies. "I tried to talk to her, ask what he meant, but she ran away from me. Me! When I was leaving the dance, she came after me and tried to give me some line about, 'It's not you, it's me.' What does that mean? She said that I made her happy but that she had to make herself happy first. What does that mean? I told her I loved her and she said she loved me, too. And then she walked away! What does that mean? She walked away without giving us a chance to work it out. Did she mean anything she said?"

Oh, boy. I've been there before. And there was nothing really to say or do, just play the role of the supportive mom, the one who understands. I felt abandoned, too, and we commiserated together. I wonder if Dawson knows how important that was to me.

And Joey. What could I say about her? What would I say TO her when I next saw her? She knew better than anyone that she'd hurt my son, and it was obvious she must be hurting too. Potter Pain is a very special brand.

Once again, she was the one who surprised _me._ It seems she and Dawson had been working on repairing their friendship and, as evidence of that, my son had been wildly extravagant. He had won the Juror's Prize at the Boston Film Festival for best film in the junior division. The prize was $2,500—which was supposed to go toward making his next film, but, without consulting any of us, Dawson apparently decided to split the prize with Joey. I know he couldn't really have been thinking about this. I mean, what kind of message did that send to Joey? That he hoped to win her over with money? And what kind of message did that send to his other friends, Pacey and Jen, who had also worked on the film without any notion of payment?

Joey showed up at the house one day with an envelope and a tin of cookies. I invited her in to wait for Dawson, who was out with Jen on some supply mission. I hadn't seen her in weeks and I missed her. After we got past the "So how's everything going?" introductory remarks, both of us struggled awkwardly with the silence. Finally, I asked her about the tin she'd brought.

"Oh, I baked some cookies for Dawson. Chocolate chip." "His favorite," I said. "I know," Joey replied, and I had to smile. Of course she did. "It's been a long time since we've baked anything together. I kind of miss those Saturday afternoons." "Me, too," she said, as the big toe of her Keds traced little circles on the hardwood floor.

"Mrs. Leery?" "Yes, Joey?" "I baked the cookies because I wanted to say thank you. But I think he went a little overboard this time. I can't accept all that money." "Money?" She looked up, clearly unsure whether or not it would be wise to continue. I patted her hand. "If you want to share something, Joey, it's strictly between you and I. As friends." She flashed a nervous smile, then took it back immediately.

"The thing is…I mean, you know about the Boston Film Festival, right?" "Of course. I'm really proud of Dawson," I told her. "I'm really proud of _all_ of you." "He was so excited when he told me about everything. I felt bad for turning him down, for being the spoiler. He wants me to help him produce the next one and I just can't. I've got too many commitments already." "Oh. Well, surely he understands that."

"He said that he did." Joey fidgeted again on the sofa. "But…I didn't know what to say when he showed up on my doorstep with a check for half the prize money."

_He did what?_

"I refused it at first, but he was so insistent. He said there were no strings attached."

_Big lie. Did Dawson even know how manipulative he was being here?_

"I don't know. These art classes are expensive. So…" "You took the money." Joey nodded. "Honey, you didn't do anything wrong. He wanted you to have it."

_And unfortunately it was his to give away._

"It still didn't feel right. I tried to talk to Bessie about it, but she didn't know what to do about it either. So I made a deal with myself: I bought some art supplies—which is what Dawson wanted me to do—and they cost less than two hundred dollars. Then…do you think it was OK for me to buy some groceries for the house?"

I wanted to cry. I hadn't even thought to ask how things were going for her at home. "Of course it is, Joey." I put my arm around her. "Anyway, Bessie took me to the bank and I had a money order made out to Dawson for the balance. I hope he's not mad."

I knew there was a reason why I loved this girl. With all the negative examples she had in life, she had developed a very honest and forthright moral code. Her mother would be so proud.


	2. Chapter 2

**II.**

I don't know much about the Joey-Jen rivalry. I know it existed—for many different reasons, not just because of my son. They seemed to go through cycles of being friends on and off despite Dawson's importance (or lack of it) in their lives. Joey told me she gave Jen "tips" about Dawson's God-Bless-the-Only-Child way of thinking when things got tricky in their relationship. Jen coached Joey on the importance of Vaseline in that Miss Windjammer pageant.

When Jen's grandfather died, Joey was tremendously sympathetic…but within weeks, days even, was throwing her dagger looks when she thought Jen was trying to move in on Dawson again. I never really understood the full scope of it until I invited Jen to bring her friends over to share their points of view for a teen-life piece I was working on for the station. If looks could kill, Jen would have been dust that night. Joey simply could not, would not give her a break.

The interesting thing is that neither one was in a romantic relationship with my son at the time; their rivalry was obviously much deeper than that. Had I seen her act more hostile? Yes. When she found out her father was cheating on her mother as she lay dying. But that provocation was understandable, perhaps even justifiable. But what had Jen done to incite such vitriol?

It turned out to be territorial after all. "You want our relationship to change?" I overheard Joey say accusatorially. "Then stop encroaching on what's mine. You continue to recast yourself in my role, then feign shock and surprise when I resent you for it….First, you were Dawson's girlfriend and now you're his producer, his collaborator, his best friend. You've adopted his interests, his dreams and now his mother."

H-E-double toothpicks. I never even considered what Joey would feel about my inviting Jen to help me organize this little human interest story. To be honest, Jen had better networking skills and I thought Joey would shy away from making such a commitment. Thankfully, the evening ended well with both girls gaining insight into each other's psyche and discovering they had more in common than first imagined. I came across the clip reel recently and the naked honesty was unbelievably touching.

"When I first came here from New York, I felt relief," Jen confessed. "Trying to compete in that hyper-accelerated world, I was in the fast lane to self-annihilation. And then, when I got here, I figured maybe I didn't have anything to prove and that I could finally slow down. But having all that experience just came back to haunt me."

Jen's revelation seemed to inspire an equally personal one from her "rival". "When somebody comes along who has seen things that I've never seen or done, things that I've only dreamed about, my defenses go up because I can't compete with that. I'm just Joey Potter, you know? The small town girl who will live and die on the creek—and as much as I completely disdain that identity… it's all I've got. So if I ever feel like somebody is going to steal that measly bit of self that I have or that small amount of love that I've somehow managed to accumulate, I feel threatened and I go for the jugular. I admit it."

Wow. That's my girl. Own up to your insecurities. People _want_ to understand.

Listening to these girls talk so beautifully about their fears and desires, I was reminded of the daughter I had lost in miscarriage…and the daughter I gained through friendship and loss. Joey. The best reward for producing this news piece was that it gave me a chance to tell her how special she was—and still is—to me.

**zzzzzzzzzz**

I think it meant something to Joey to hear that I still cared about her, that nothing would ever change that. The same was true of my son. Joey was like an addiction to him—he just couldn't get her out of his system. He never believed she had truly moved on; he never gave up on her. Scratch the surface of his cordial concern for her and you'd find a young man still enraptured with the idea of loving her...and her loving him back.

So what did he hope to accomplish by making a film about their relationship? Complex vocabulary notwithstanding, I was incredibly proud of my son for _Creek Times _because it was his first attempt at a realistic human drama. It was a chance for him to work out some of the things that were nagging him at the time. But I always wondered what Joey, the other protagonist of this melodrama, thought. Not just about Dawson's depiction of her and his exploitation of some of their most private moments, but also about his efforts (rightly or wrongly) to get inside her head. How would she have felt about this lose of privacy?

We never talked about it, but I think it bothered her. Yet she remained amazingly supportive throughout the ordeal, a part of her resigned that Dawson must follow his muse wherever it led him, another part cognizant that he was dealing with his own demons at the time. The questions just didn't go away…but for Dawson the answer remained the same.

"Joey's the answer. I had her, I lost her, and now I'm going to get her back. How's that for definitive?"

Life's twists and turns inevitably led Joey back to my son. Not when he thought she would, after her relationship with Jack McPhee ended, but when she was ready—when the final piece in her fantasy puzzle was in place. Mike Potter was unexpectedly let out on parole and his presence at home brought new joy to his daughters' lives. Joey, naturally suspicious, was a wreck—full of anticipation and hope and fear. She wanted desperately for this to be the happy ending she'd always dreamt about, but fully expected to learn it was all a bloody trick.

I felt for her, I really did. It's not easy to let someone back into your life when they've hurt you so badly. It was at the Althorp wedding that I first saw her begin to relax and accept happiness as her due. Mike Potter, charmer that he is, decided to play matchmaker and bring my son and his daughter back together as well. Moments later, when we saw them kissing sweetly on the dance floor, I think both of our hearts were warmed and, at the same time, relieved. "Ah, young love," he said as we danced away. We both agreed that seeing them as a couple again seemed fitting and right.

Mike. What did you do? What were you thinking? Didn't you know you were acting out your daughter's worst fears when you got involved with you old drug-dealing cronies? The girls had survived for three years without any major financial catastrophes—was money really that much of a concern?

I didn't want to think about it at first, but somehow I knew when Dawson first asked me for advice about the "something really bad" that he'd discovered, that the "someone" he really cared about was Joey and the "someone close to them" was her father. Days later, when The Ice House was torched, he had no choice but to admit the truth of what he had seen to Mitch and I. He knew this wasn't going to play well with Joey, she had fallen hard into the fantasy, but he was determined to do the right thing.

He was right. She didn't take it well at all. She sat in that chair in John Witter's office steaming, brooding, her eyes getting darker and darker as it became obvious what they wanted her to do: help turn in her father before someone in her family got hurt. I remember how she flinched when I tried to show her some support by reassuringly touching her shoulder. She was already beginning to steel herself against the fallout, building that protective shell to keep anyone who could hurt her—or help her—out.

Dawson wanted to be there when she confronted her father. He wanted to show support, but he approached her too quickly afterwards and she struck back in fury. I wouldn't even have known the details of this if it hadn't been for that goddamn audio tape. Yes, an enterprising deputy did make copies of the tape and, unfortunately, it got passed around to different news organizations in town. Joey's talk with Mike was heartbreaking enough, but the tape continued to roll as she spoke with Dawson, her anger and self-loathing so vivid and palpable. She would never forgive him, she said. She wanted to forget she ever knew him.

Dawson walked—perhaps staggered is a better word—back into our house and I knew things had not gone well. His face was a startling, translucent white—not his usual film geek pallor. I think that's the first time I ever saw him cry as a young man. I went to hug him and he just lost it, the language incomprehensible but affecting all the same.

After his last final exam, I took him with me to Philadelphia and he spent his first summer in memory without Joey Potter.

**zzzzzzzzzz**

I can't even imagine what _she_ was going through during this period. I gather that friends were calling in updates, but Dawson rarely shared them with me. Mitch said that he heard she was working down at the marina but that she never came by and he never saw her in town. He ran into Bessie once and she seemed embarrassed about their situation (as if any of it was their fault!) and said only that Joey had withdrawn from everyone.

How could I be mad at her? She hurt my son, yes. But it was the understandable reaction of a child whose trust had been violated. Remember what she said about going for the jugular whenever someone threatened the small amount of happiness she had been able to find in the world? Her father was the one who betrayed her, but she directed her anger at the person who first "enlightened" her. Dawson.

Had he been too eager to be the hero? I don't think so. Not with Mitch and I encouraging him on; we were _all_ worried about Joey and her family.

As the summer came an end, you could feel the dread building in Dawson about his return to Capeside. For a moment, he actually considered staying in Philadelphia and going to school there. But my work situation wasn't secure and I know he would have missed his friends. He certainly never stopped thinking about _her:_ what to do, what to say.

"It's over," he insisted. "I love her, but I can't go through that again. I'm through with the _strum und drang._ Besides, Mom, as far as I know, she still doesn't want to talk to me."

"You'll talk eventually," I told him. "Just be honest with her, listen to her. She needs to feel that she can trust people again."

Two weeks later, he reported back that they had indeed spoken. It was sad, he admitted. Everything seemed to go well at first. Joey apologized for the harsh things she'd said and for hurting him. She said that she missed him…loved him…wanted him. Unfortunately, Dawson kept her at arm's length and made her feel that he didn't want her. That wasn't completely honest, but he didn't know how else to handle it. At 16, he simply wasn't ready to jump back into a committed relationship. Joey left his room in tears.

My heart broke for her. Knowing how he felt, I think my son did the right thing in not giving her false hope. But I knew the girl whom I thought of as a surrogate daughter was probably hurting badly after opening up and making such a confession. It was reassuring to learn that Dawson had the presence of mind to send Pacey after her. With his girlfriend in the hospital, Pacey had had a tough summer as well. But if the previous year had taught this former goofball anything, it was how to be sensitive and really listen to women. He might give her a tough time—old habits die hard—but Pacey was probably as worried about Joey as the rest of us.

**zzzzzzzzzz**

What was so funny? I asked "What's up?" and Mitch couldn't stop laughing. It was Thursday, time for the weekly update from my boys. (Okay, so Mitch wasn't mine anymore, but I was working on repairing that one.) His laughter was infectious and soon I was giggling in response and I still didn't know why. I only knew felt good. It felt like…we were still a family.

"Mitch?" "Sorry, Gale. I remember the last time we stumbled on something like this, we were dumbfounded by the revelation and now all I can think of is, 'That's my boy!' " Father and son had just returned from a homecoming rally at Capeside High—where it turned out that Dawson, instead of providing the entertainment for such an event, **was** the entertainment for an audience of students, parents and teachers. What was behind Screen #2? My son making out with a hot blonde (or so I was told).

Who was this girl? Nobody seemed to know much about her, except that her name was Eve. How appropriate. Eve the temptress, the girl who was designed to make him forget…

"Oh God, Mitch. Did Joey see it?" The guffawing stopped at the other end of the line. Mitch became pensive. "I don't know. I don't think so. If she had, I don't think that she'd be talking to Dawson right now."

"She's there?" "They're out on the dock. And there's no yelling or screaming…no punches being thrown. They're just sitting down, talking. She's swinging her legs. I think everything's fine. He just gave something to her and she's smiling."

Joey's smiling? I can't tell you the relief I felt then. "Oh, he's coming back in now. Do you want to talk to him?" Absolutely.

"So…you and Joey appear to have mended a few fences," I said. "I don't think she'll ever stop surprising me," Dawson replied. "She saw something today she wasn't supposed to, and instead of being angry and upset she said she had learned something. She realized that I was right and that we needed to spend some time apart." _See? She's growing up faster._

"Mom, I hope you don't mind. I gave her that friendship necklace." "Of course I don't mind. That's how it's supposed to be used. So what does this mean, honey?" "That we're connected and we always will be. You know, Dawson and Joey. Soulmates."

To this day, I've never known where he came up with that term. It wasn't something Mitch and I shared with him. It had to have been a movie lesson. But the only ones I can think of are decidedly un-Spielberg. In _Harold & Maude, _a teenage boy and an old woman are quote unquote soulmates. And in _A Stranger Among Us,_ Melanie Griffith goes undercover in the Hassidic community and falls in love with a young scholar, a future leader of his people. But he's about to get married to a woman he's never met, a woman he calls his soulmate. Neither one of these stories seem to apply, do they?

Soulmates is such a life-defining concept. Does anyone know what it means at 16? Reducing everything down to this ideal at such a young age would seem to promise a future together without the necessary work needed to sustain such a relationship; the implied definition restricting rather than enriching. Did Mitch and I know with any certainty at 16 how things would turn out? No.

I hoped that our son wouldn't put a premature label on his relationship with Joey. That he would give it a chance to grow and evolve naturally.

**zzzzzzzzzz**

Thanksgiving at Evelyn Ryan's was the first time I'd seen Joey in months. Lord she had grown! Spiritually and physically. I swear she was at least two inches taller…and thin, way too thin, in my opinion. It was the first time I saw her in action as the mediator, the peacemaker. Joey was a young woman now and I was so proud of her.

Did I ever tell you the story about The Ice House? The Ice House had a tortured history—just like the family that now owned it. Mike Potter bought it on a whim without knowing if he could fully finance it. It seems he manipulated the figures a little on those loan applications; Lillian was forced to keep a second job as a barmaid in order to keep one step ahead of creditors. Evenso, owning that restaurant gave the Potters a real sense of being part of the Capeside community and I don't think I'd ever seen her as happy as she was working to maintain that dream.

After Lillian died, Bessie confided in me that her life insurance had paid off the mortgage on their modest home. But keeping the restaurant open was an ongoing struggle, which was only made possible by the hard work of the two Potter girls and a young man named Bodi Dulaine who donated his salary in exchange for room and board. Of course, it helped that he was also in love with the older sister, Bessie.

Joey adored him. I don't think she ever saw color when she looked at him. One of the nicer benefits about surviving the '60s is witnessing first-hand how today's generation is much blinder to color—not that the barrier has been erased entirely.

One day, I stopped by The Ice House to check in and I saw Bodi walking toward a back booth where Joey was cleaning and refilling condiment containers. He wiped his hands with the dish cloth he was holding and sat down next to her in the booth. It was only then I noticed the ragged breathing, the stifled sobs. I stood in the doorway and watched as Bodi gently stroked her hair and encouraged her to lean on his shoulder. He spoke very softly and whatever it was he said, it seemed to cheer her up. Joey wiped the tears from her cheek with a discreet hand gesture, and he kissed her on the forehead. I smiled and walked back out, not wanting to intrude on their privacy any further.

I learned later that the scene ended on a much different note. After Bodi left to go back to work in the kitchen, Joey apparently overheard some girls from school making disparaging remarks. "Ewww!" Belinda McGovern said. "How could she let him touch her like that?" "Yeah, the next thing you know he's going to be going after _her,"_ Melissa Barry chimed in. "Which one do you think he'll get knocked up first?" Nellie Olsen laughed, loud enough for anyone in the room to hear. "The virgin or the 'hobag?" "Ick! Don't make me gag," Belinda replied with faux aristocratic disgust. "He'll probably nail both. They're so trailer park."

Joey had enough, marching to their table with clenched fists. "Don't you DARE **ever** say anything about my family again," she demanded, "or I'll shove that trailer up where the sun don't shine and you'll feel grateful just to feel the pain! Now…can I take your order or would you rather leave?" She indicated the door and they left promptly, too afraid and too much in shock to challenge her.

It's no wonder she rallied to Principal Green's defense when the school board threatened him with termination. Yes, she felt responsible in some way. It was the defacing of her mural that started the chain of events leading to Mathew Caulfield's expulsion and the district superintendent's ultimatum. But Joey was wise to the world now, suspecting that race had reared its ugly head in the extremity of this confrontation.

"If Principal Green was white," she asked me on camera, "would we even be here today? I don't think so. And I don't appreciate being used as a pawn to keep Capeside comfortably Caucasian. We should feel damn uncomfortable anytime something like this happens."

I already said I was proud of her, right? Sorry for the redundancy. How about pleased as punch…delighted by measure...eternally gratified…heart bursting with—OK, I have to say it again—pride. She didn't win that battle, Principal Green left. But another important lesson was learned, and Joey gained newfound confidence. She was a much stronger girl now; independence suited her.

There was another surprise in store: I didn't know she was dating a boy from Harvard, someone she'd met on an overnight visit to the school. "A.J. seems like a nice guy," Dawson told me. But Pacey seemed to bristle at the mere mention of his name. That's when I began to think that what I had seen at the opening of the Potter B&B one month earlier wasn't imagined after all.

Just like the protest rally where Pacey put out the word and brought in the folks, opening weekend at the B&B was largely choreographed by this young man so eager to please—who? He called the press, put together the fake guest list, fixed the furnace…even drove all night to pick up Bodi and bring him back. "Why do you care so much?" Mitch had asked him. I think he was too scared to admit his feelings then. But, when I look back on it, I realize the sparks were clearly flying…between both of them.

Little gestures. That's all it takes, even though Joey hadn't recognized it yet. I know her body language and moods: slumping when she's frustrated and trying to be as inconspicuous as possible; scrunching her shoulders forward when stressed out, all her tension going to her shoulders; tilting her head to the right when acting happy (or coy) for the camera—she never did like having her picture taken. But on the occasion when she was relaxed and happy, the photographs sparkled with her natural life force.

That's what I see when I look at the photos Dawson took that weekend; she's sparkling. Looking into the view finder, why couldn't he see it as well? Or did he think it was all about him? Pacey brought something new and unexpected out in Joey, he challenged her. I wish I had seen that mural. The way Pacey described it, it sounded incredible. "Very elegant, very new age," he said. Joey used to draw all the time. I haven't seen any of her work since…well, since she used to storyboard Dawson's fantasy movies—long before he ever owned a camera.

Now that camera was capturing something new. Another shift in their relationship was occurring right before his eyes and my poor, deluded, fantasy-driven son was completely oblivious.


	3. Chapter 3

**III.**

I always thought I was seeing a great love story when I looked at Joey. There's a part of her that is very earthy as well as mysterious, real and yet slightly out of reach. Above all, and at all times, sensual. I think she felt it but never believed it…until she fell in love with Pacey.

Did it surprise me that she and Pacey were inextricably drawn to each other? No. I know, I'm supposed to be rooting for my son here, right? So let me be clear about this: First, I have considered this after the fact of what happened _not_ during the turmoil of the actual event. Second, once again, I have to own up to being significantly distracted at the time; Mitch and I had fallen back in together. Was it a reconciliation or just a post-divorce fling? Neither one of us was sure—so, yes, I was caught up in my own sexual melodrama at the time.

Throughout his junior year in school, Dawson didn't seem to know what he wanted. First, there was Eve…then there was film—he made two short documentaries in the first few months of school…then he got slammed down by the audience reaction at the Boston Film Festival and decided to put the camera away…then he started falling for a fellow film student, Principal Green's daughter, Nikki. I always wondered if she hadn't been black if he would've asked her out; I think he wanted to. But then she moved away and he was left with: Joey.

There is no doubt that his feelings about her were territorial as well. Not being able to make up his mind about how she fit in his life made him irritable and moody, especially when she didn't adhere to his script. As spring break approached and he planned a weekend trip to my sister Gwen's cabin in the mountains, I was happy because it seemed to be the perfect opportunity for my son to work on his relationship with his best friend/former girlfriend/eternal (in his mind, at least) soulmate.

I hate to say it, but I was glad Pacey wasn't going. Unfortunately, I knew something Dawson didn't and I was having a hard time living with it. A few days earlier, Pacey had come in to the restaurant looking for Dawson. They were supposed to meet there on their way out of town on an overnight expedition to the scene of many of their childhood adventures: a fort made out of old lumber Mitch gave them after tearing down an old shed.

Pacey, normally full of good-humored jokes and ready to offer a hand, if needed, was uncharacteristically jumpy. I finally pulled him into a secluded work area to ask what was wrong. "Wrong? Nothing's wrong, Mrs. Leery." And then an almost indecipherable mumble to himself, "Something's right…I think." Silence. Lots of looking down at the ground…contemplation of navel type of thing. A reconsideration. "I have to tell Dawson…something, and honestly?…I don't know how to do it. In my head, whatever I say it always comes out wrong; it ends badly. Dawson's my best friend and…"

"Pacey, what could you possibly say to Dawson that would threaten your friendship? Come on," I said, giving him a little shoulder to shoulder hug. I glanced back toward the entry and saw Mitch come into the restaurant; my mind began to drift. Pacey continued to hem and haw as he looked most intently at his hands this time.

"Shit!" he muttered, again under his breath. I turned to look at him in concern. "Pacey, what?" I don't know why, but in a split second I came to the realization of what he was going to say before he did. "I kissed her," he said very quietly and apologetically. "Who?" I responded before the reflex kicked in. "Joey. You kissed Joey?" His eyes were questioning, pleading. "Okay. So…" I wasn't thinking about Mitch anymore. "Is this something that is reciprocated?" "No," he stated adamantly. "Are you sure?" "She got angry and pushed me away."

_Joey Potter body vocab - To push away in reflex anger. v. To deny one's innermost feelings. n. Denial in equal proportion to need._

"So you tell Dawson you kissed her and that's the end of it. You guys are friends, Pacey. Dawson and Joey are friends—they're not dating each other. He has no claim on her. He might be surprised, but I don't think he'll be that upset. He's accepted that she's seeing other people."

"I'm not so sure about that," Pacey said. "I once asked for his permission to kiss her, he said yes and later changed his mind. They weren't a couple then—do you think things are any different now?"

_There was a first time? So this wasn't something new, it was something rediscovered. _

"And the thing is…No, this is stupid. I'm sorry, Mrs. Leery, I shouldn't be telling you all this," he said, clearly frustrated. My curiosity got the better of me. "Why not?" I asked.

"I am so totally screwed. I don't know what to do," he said with a slight catch in his voice. All of a sudden, I felt very sorry for him. "I think I love her," he blurted out just as Dawson walked in. "Pace! Ready to go?" Pacey picked up his backpack and then turned back to me as if to say, What'll I do now? "Go," I encouraged him. "It'll be okay." My smile lacked conviction. "Have fun you guys!"

**zzzzzzzzzz**

Nothing happened, and there was no fallout—which made me doubly curious. Why not? Dawson, in fact, seemed to have cheered up, having reconnected with something. Whatever resolution that overnight wrought, in Dawson's mind at least, it's what gave him the idea to take Gwen up on her invitation and bring Joey and friends along for a holiday in the mountains—the kind of trip we used to take with them as kids, and obviously for Dawson another reconnection. He was actually disappointed when he told me that Pacey, who had been elusive all week, couldn't make it.

It was only later that I learned that his second best friend, once the third wheel in his life scenario, had shown up with another boyhood friend that Spring morning and did indeed go to Gwen's cabin with the group. You see, there was a great love story in Pacey as well.

**zzzzzzzzzz**

"When did you know that Dad was the one?" he asked as we drove to the restaurant. Spring break had left Leery's Fresh Fish dangerously short on staff and yet as busy as ever and Dawson, my angel, was doubling up on shifts to help cover. "The one what?" I asked nervously. Did he know that his father and I had been seeing each other on the sly?

"The person you were meant to be with—no matter what obstacles life throws in your way."

Did he know about Pacey? Did Joey say something?

"I don't know, honey. It was a lot of little things that had quietly accumulated. I gave him a hard time about his sweaters, he told me he thought I was a snob…but there was always a certain tenderness behind the verbal jousting. We planned a romantic weekend…" "Mom!" "…but it was raining so heavily that we ended up staying in my room at the dorm. We talked straight through the night well into the next day. I remember one moment, groggy from lack of sleep, looking at your father and realizing that I could imagine starting a family with this guy. And I guess that was it."

Dawson seemed lost in thought. "Why do you ask, sweetie?" "I think I'm ready," he said very determinedly. "I think _we're_ ready. We had to wade through a lot of crap this year, but I think Joey and I are finally back on the same path. We had a couple of great talks at Aunt Gwen's. She's changed, Mom, she's not so angry anymore. I can see us going the distance this time."

Uh oh.

"The night before last, she came to me and I could see that she wanted to say something. I think she's feeling the same thing I am. She broke up with A.J., did you know that?"

No…

"I want her back. I can finally say without fear of recrimination. I love Joey and I want her back."

"That's a very romantic notion, honey. Just make sure that you and Joey are indeed on the same page."

"We are, I know it."

A phone call from Gwen the next day convinced me otherwise. I love my baby sister dearly but you have to understand that neither one of us are slaves to routine. Weekly updates are not part of our pattern and we rarely call to socialize. Using the telephone generally means there's a plan in motion.

So when Gwen called that Wednesday afternoon "just to talk," I was immediately suspicious. "Okay, Gwen, what's up?" "Nothing. I just wanted to make sure the kids got home safely and all. Is everything OK?" "Yes, and thank you for inquiring two days later." "You know moi," she said rather half-heartedly. "You're starting to worry me now, Gwen. I repeat, what's up?"

"Sorry, Gale, I didn't mean to…I mean, I felt…this weird feeling kinda washing over me and…" She finally got to the point. "I was just afraid Dawson might be having a hard time of it." There was a huge silence on the other end of the phone. I matched her pause, listening intently to the clock keeping time on my fireplace mantel. "I walked in on them making out," she said reluctantly as if it were a secret I had pried from her cold, dead hands. My heart fluttered. Maybe Dawson was right after all.

"So you walked in on Dawson & Joey kissing…" "No, not _Dawson_ and Joey, Pacey and Joey." "He was there? Since when?" "Since he showed up with his friend, Will. You didn't know?" "No. The last I heard, he wasn't going to go." "Interesting…"

"Okay, so spill. Tell me the whole thing."

"I knew something was up the moment they arrived. Joey seemed on edge a lot—like she didn't know what to do with herself. She kept asking me about Richard: if I ever regretted the way things went down, how I knew he was the one. And when Dawson wasn't around, Pacey hovered around her like an anxious puppy dog. She let something slip earlier, but any doubt I had was erased when I saw the way he looked at her…and the way she kept avoiding looking at him."

_Lesson 2: Joey Potter body vocab – Eyes averted from prying eyes. v. To need but not to believe. n. Avoidance; attraction._

"We had a karaoke night and Pacey left while Dawson & Joey were singing. Two minutes later, Joey slipped out the door after him. Dawson and I were arguing over the next song, which I threatened would be his solo piece, so I'm sure she didn't think anyone had noticed. I gave them a few minutes alone and then decided to reel them back in. Unfortunately, I broke up what appeared to be a very intense kiss on the side porch."

I couldn't restrain the heavy sigh that escaped my lips.

"Pacey went back inside and Joey and I spoke for a few minutes. I felt bad being the spoiler. She seemed very confused, shrugging the kiss off at first as 'a mistake' but eventually admitting it meant something more to her than that. And this is where I made _my_ big mistake of the day."

"What?"

"I told her to talk to Dawson."

"What was wrong with that?"

"Nothing. Except I followed that up with a silly attempt to reconcile Dawson with his most cherished friend. I wanted him to see his childhood as a wellspring that could fuel his dreams. That, no matter what happened, it would always be there for him—and that, no matter how and when they moved on, Joey would always be a special part of that time."

"Gwen, that was a beautiful thing…"

"No, Gale, you don't get it. I made things worse. Joey was there in the room with him, obviously trying to find the words to tell him what was going on and I blew it. I walked in without thinking, interrupting her from finding her voice. She got shy and retreated. She never finished the talk."

Damn. And the worst of it was that Dawson now believed the complete opposite. He thought she was coming back to him. Then I remembered the gift that he'd brought home from Gwen's. **"Why **did you give him that painting?" I asked, a bit miffed as well as mystified.

"Nothing like compounding an error with an even larger, equally ill-advised gesture fraught with unintended symbolism."

"Oh, Gwen."

**zzzzzzzzzz**

It was now Thursday and I still hadn't seen or heard from Joey. I decided to send Dawson on an errand out of town, dispatching him to pick up some produce at the Southport farmer's market. I wanted to keep him busy and give Joey some more time to figure out what she wanted to do; she was obviously having a tough time negotiating another heart to heart—at least with my son.

Back at the restaurant, Bodi was in a foul mood. It seems he and Bessie had a rare, nearly cataclysmic fight. He'd just learned that she had taken out a mortgage on her house to cover the start-up costs on the B&B—something, apparently, she had neglected to tell him. Oh, those Potter women and their secrets (even those kept out of pride)!

Bodi was supposed to have the morning off but wandered into work instead. Two hours later, he came to me asking if I would mind him taking a couple of hours off so he could run some errands for Bess. "I promised her I'd pick up the new linen order today," he explained. "Of course not," I said. We were approaching the mid-afternoon lull. "Go ahead." But he returned five minutes later. He had phoned Bessie and she tersely informed him that Joey had already picked everything up. It was the first time she had driven the truck more than the few miles around town; he was so proud of her. "Where did she go?" I asked for no reason in particular.

"Southport."

**zzzzzzzzzz**

"I'm afraid we're going to have to cancel our little sleepover," Mitch whispered into the phone. In the background, I could hear two, maybe three voices volleying back and forth. "What, hon? Mitch, turn the TV down, I can't hear you." "That's not the TV. That's our son with Joey and Pacey." A door slammed, and a few seconds later I heard two pairs of feet stomping chaotically up the stairs. "Dawson!" Joey cried out. "Dawson, I didn't mean…" Another door closed.

"I'll call you later," Mitch promised. Was he kidding? "I'm coming over as soon as I close up," I announced. I _had_ to know what had happened.

But closing was nearly three hours away and the events of the past few days kept running through my head. It turned out that Dawson did think he'd seen Joey _sans Pacey_ in Southport. Once, peeking her head out of a photo booth, and the second time walking quickly down a sidestreet. When he turned the corner, however, he said she had mysteriously disappeared. So he chalked it up to wishful thinking, an elusive daydream. He tried calling her at the B&B, but the phone went straight to the answering machine; that was strange. He didn't leave a message.

The next day, Friday, he called again and Bessie told him she and Pacey had gone out to get the boat ready for the christening. He ran out the door before I could stop him, but again his search was in vain—they weren't there. Even as he told me this at the restaurant, I could sense a pang of jealousy, which he denied. But it went without saying that Joey formerly spent much of her spare time with Dawson, and now—very suddenly, to him—he couldn't even get her on the phone.

He had been very hopeful about Saturday, expecting to lure her away for a quiet day together. To that end, he had pulled out a whole stack of movies from his shelves, deliberating on which ones might strike the proper chords. "Why _The Last Picture Show?_" I asked when I saw the videos tossed on his bed. I recalled the film as being about friendship and betrayal set during the last dying gasp of small Texas town. "It's the movie Joey and I went to on our first date," he said with surprising innocence, "but we never got to see the end."

I should've urged him to rethink that one, but in doing so I would have to admit knowing more than I was supposed to know, and how could I do that? His selections of _The Princess Bride,_ one of Joey's favorites, and _Close Encounters the Third Kind—_the special edition, of course—seemed more in line with the traditional D&J movie night…IF there was going to be one. Using his remote control to resurrect their relationship didn't seem like the best of ideas.

It wasn't. "Mitch, what happened?" I asked as I discreetly entered our home (well, it _was_ my home once) through the kitchen door. "Wait a minute," I stopped him. "Is it okay to talk?" "Yes," he responded. "He's been up there watching one of his videos on continuous replay. I think I have the dialogue pretty well memorized." I didn't have to ask which video that was; I knew. _The Last Picture Show._ Dawson was wallowing, and I certainly taught him how to do that!

"One thing I can say for sure: it's over between Dawson & Joey." Ah, foolish Mitch. It would _never_ be over between them. They had hell-mates written all over them. "I didn't even know she was here until I caught a glimpse of her going down the ladder. Less than a minute later, Dawson was creeping down the stairs. He stood at the front door, opening it a crack to listen to the hushed conversation going on outside. Gale, I've never seen our son like that. It was as if he were getting ready to pounce, and finally he did—on the couple outside. I couldn't hear everything that was said at first, before voices were raised, but apparently Joey & Pacey have been seeing each other. It sounded like they'd had a disagreement over telling Dawson…but this is where I got confused." "Why?" "Because he already knew."

"What do you mean he knew?"

"He found out about Joey & Pacey earlier in the day. He'd been over at Jen's and came home very upset. He was so angry, he was shaking. He had been naïve, he told me. He had laid his heart out and his best friends had betrayed him. He was tossing around heated accusations about duplicity and mendacity…" Where did he get that one from? Too many screenings of _Cat on a Hot Tin Roof,_ no doubt. "He wanted revenge."

"Revenge. Dawson wanted revenge? How did he plan to extract that?" I asked, incredulous. "I think he meant to humiliate them. He wanted to catch Joey & Pacey in a lie." "But if they were coming to tell him, how was that a lie?" I wondered out loud. "Unless…"

"He thought there was something else…something sexual going on between them," Mitch added, finishing my thought. "He said they'd slept together at Gwen's. He thought Pacey had taken advantage of Joey." Or maybe he _hoped_ that was the case. Because the alternative was that she didn't love him anymore, that she needed _someone else._ What a bitter end to his romantic fantasy of soulmates: Dawson's worst fears realized in the two people he considered his best friends.

"After you hung up, I could hear him accusing her of punishing him—which she fervently denied. She told him that the way she felt about Pacey was "completely separate" from the way she felt about her friendship with Dawson. That struck a wrong chord. His retort was that, as far as he was concerned, they didn't have a friendship anymore. 'You can't have him as your boyfriend and me as your consolation prize,' he declared. 'You're going to have to make a choice.' That seemed to take the wind out of her." Well, of course it did. Dawson knew how important their friendship was to her. Even when she walked away from him last year, it was to punish herself as well—perhaps even more than him. Dawson had turned the tables and was denying her the thing she valued most in her young life.

"I think that's when she started crying, making a plea with him to reconsider. But Dawson walked out of the room and Joey disappeared down the ladder a couple of minutes later. Her boat's still here, by the way…" "No, it's not. It's gone." So she came back at some point, and now is lost again.

"She's probably with _Pacey,_" Dawson said. "So I see you've gotten the full update," he seethed, walking to the fridge to grab a Snapple tea.

"Dawson, honey, I'm so sorry." "So am I," he said. "I've been such a dupe." "You were open and trusting and feel they've let you down. But, honey, if they really do have feelings for each other, you are wise to step out of the way."

"I don't want to hear about it, Mom! He can't have her. I won't let her go." "She's not a possession, son," Mitch said, sensibly.

"She's certainly not _his!_ She can't be," he mumbled. "Jen told me to fight for her, if that's what I wanted." That didn't sound like Jen. But none of this sounded like Dawson, either.

**zzzzzzzzzz**

Now Joey wasn't with either boy, an unhappy circumstance which gave rise to a bitter, albeit undeclared, struggle between two former best friends to win the affections of their fair maiden. Dawson's choice of "weapons" was sailboats. He planned to "duel" with Pacey at the Spring Regatta—to show Joey in actions rather than words how much he cared for her.

At least, that was the thought. In truth, he wasn't thinking much about Joey or her feelings in the matter, he was simply thinking about winning. He wanted to beat Pacey and show in one bold action that he was the better suitor.

Mitch wasn't helping much; he had actually signed on as crew. (Though his intentions were honorable: he wanted to keep Dawson and Jack safe.) I found most of this out through Joey, who was desperately trying to negotiate a truce. Pacey had agreed to step aside if Dawson would. Denying her request—actually mine, since I was the one trying to broker that side of the bargain—he only seemed to be motivated further. I felt responsible. If only I hadn't let him take the Leery banner to Pacey that day. We were trying to honor a commitment and Dawson had turned it into full-fledged combat.

I observed Joey at the race and she was beside herself with worry as Dawson and Pacey battled for the front spot. Both of them ended up losing, sending her deeper into despair. Dawson deserved to lose; he had cheated and was rightfully called on it. But Pacey felt he had lost as well—self-respect, most likely…the hard-earned right to call something his own. Joey told both of them off, convinced she was unworthy of such a life-defining struggle. Pacey walked back to his boat, and Dawson chased after her. One boy unwilling to admit defeat, the other cognizant of the painful fact that the decision wasn't his to make. "Mitch," I said then, "we need to have a talk with Dawson."

Two days later, Joey showed up at our house and offered another olive branch, which Dawson gratefully accepted. Surprisingly, soon after they were back to hanging out together—almost as if nothing had happened, but of course something had. Dawson was as optimistic as ever, but you could sense a certain sadness in Joey, a poignant resignation to life as she was expected to live it. The courage that had propelled her to academic heights seemed to have fled her when it came to claiming more personal ones.

I loved her, I really did—but if she wasn't happy she needed to tell Dawson. Soon.

Just like Mitch and I managed to be frank with him. We blew that one, didn't we? Got caught by Joey & Dawson on the front porch of the Leery homestead… an eerie harkening back to certain tables being turned in a certain teenage boy's bedroom where we stumbled upon him making out with a certain gal friend.

This time, it was Joey's turn to get flustered and she exited the scene as quickly as her runner's feet would take her, though I am sure her awkwardness had little to do with us. Flight gave her time to rethink the commitment she had just made: to attend Junior Prom with Dawson.

Dawson was ecstatic, choosing to revel in his recent success rather than the confusing life scenario Mitch and I had just presented him with as sexually involved exes.

Interestingly, Joey almost found a way to bow out gracefully. Jack McPhee, her former boyfriend now out of the closet gay friend, had been illegally denied prom tickets by an uninformed, puritanical classmate. Joey and Andie, his sister and Pacey's ex—Ah, the webs they had woven!—had vowed not to attend if Jack couldn't go. Eager to seize the day and save that dance with Joey, Dawson offered an alternative plan: a so-called Anti-Prom held at our restaurant. He was so convincingly heartfelt in his proposal that Mitch and I said yes, and so did they.

Joey came in one of her mother's old dresses that Bessie had modified for her. She looked stunningly beautiful. But, dressed in black as she was, she also looked heartbreakingly sad, even mournful. As a chaperone to the event, I watched as she danced with Dawson, trying on a cheerful face whenever they were face to face, but immediately dropping that application as soon as her face was shielded from his view. Her inner conflict was visibly, and physically, apparent. After some tearful words with Dawson, she walked out for some fresh air while Dawson busied himself with meeting and greeting his classmates.

He didn't notice when Joey walked up to Pacey and asked him to dance. He didn't notice as she took his hand and led him to the dance floor and then shyly turned to face him. He didn't notice the relaxed, happy face that greeted Pacey when she looked at him and remained in place even when away from his gaze. He didn't notice the tender manner in which Pacey examined the pair of diamond earrings—my earrings—that Dawson had given her "on loan". He didn't notice the beautiful way Pacey held her hand as he looked at the bracelet she was wearing or the intense, soulful look she gifted him in return. He didn't notice the unbearably sexy way she placed the flat of her hands on his chest as he lightly caressed her bare shoulder.

He did notice the smile she gave him before he drew her closer and she was seemingly swept into another world, burying her now tortured face against his shoulder. He did notice how her breath hitched as she fell deeper into the embrace…only to look up in sorrowed anguish as she saw him standing there, disapproving, unbelieving.

_Lesson 3: Joey Potter body vocab – Too many heartbreaking and significant signs to dismiss, ending in one all-important word. n. Love._

She ran after him to explain that her motives had been simply to restore the triumvirate and get things back to the way they were. She jumped back as he turned on her. "You can't go back to the way they were, Joey. Don't you get it? You can't dance with him at the prom I organized and expect me not to be hurt."

No, she didn't get it. She obviously had believed the boy who rushed in to save the day for Jack and their gang of misfits. "You said tonight was about you, me and our friendship," she countered, "and if that was really the case, it wouldn't matter whom I danced with." "I said tonight was about moving forward, Joey. What did you think that meant?" he asked. Perhaps pleaded is more accurate. "You can't have thought that that's all I wanted."

And now the good stuff (he was getting good at these little manipulations): "The whole reason I suggested this whole stupid alternative prom wasn't about Jack, it was about you." A jab straight at the heartstrings. But at least he was being honest now—a bit late, but still effective. And he did get his end of the evening kiss.

He still didn't get the girl.

**zzzzzzzzzz**

A week later, Joey and I went shopping for bridesmaid dresses. After our roughest year on record—rough because we were apart from each other for far too long—Mitch and I had decided to remarry, and I asked Joey if she would be my maid of honor. She was surprised, but when I saw her lips curl into that famous crooked smile of hers, I knew I had done the right thing, and I smiled back.

Best of all, the accelerated schedule (due to our haste to "do the deed" as soon as possible) gave me an excuse to spend more time with her. It had been years since we did anything as simple as going clothes shopping. Joey was quiet when I first picked her up. I could see her trying to manage her discomfort by not fidgeting too much, but it only drew my attention to her more.

"Lovely weather," I said in an attempt to break the ice. "Yeah," she said. "It's been a nice Spring." "Thanks for doing this Joey. I really appreciate it." "Thank you for asking me," she said. "I didn't think…I…um." She looked away. "Are you disappointed in me?"

"Honey, why would I be disappointed in you? You've done nothing wrong. I know Dawson was hoping you two would get together again, but your feelings are your feelings. You can't help that. And I don't think either you or Pacey meant to hurt anyone. Least of all, Dawson."

She looked up at me with tears in her eyes and I was compelled to pull her into a hug. "We didn't," she said simply. I could feel her struggle to keep herself from crying, a slight tremble followed by a series of measured breaths. "I feel…so bad. No matter what I do, I end up hurting someone."

"There are no easy answers," I told her. "All I can say is give yourself some time and listen to your heart. Ultimately, this decision is about you…and no one else." She wiped a tear from her cheek. "It's about _you,_ Joey. Be selfish here. Don't be afraid to be loved."

She sat back and I took that as a cue. "Okay," I said. "We've got something old and something new. How about something borrowed?" "I was going to give you something of my mom's." "That would be lovely, honey."

**zzzzzzzzzz**

It was a beautiful wedding, if I do say so myself. A little breezy, but that felt oddly comforting. I was surprised to see Pacey there. I think Joey was, too. We had invited him, of course, but I didn't think he would come. But I was glad he was there. Why not? He had been part of our lives for so long, and something told me that he would be again.

He left before the wedding toasts, however. Dawson gave a touching speech about the true meaning of love and for the first time in weeks, I saw Joey smile. As we got ready to leave, Mitch and I saw Dawson & Joey talking on the dock and we hoped that it might be the beginning of an honest reconciliation. I was too wrapped up in my own bliss to really dissect the body language, the distance between them, the lack of tender intimacy.

We got in the car to launch off on that much-anticipated second honeymoon …and suddenly Joey was running by, hurriedly throwing herself between well-wishers and our car. She was crying, but there was a trace of a smile on her lips as well. Those aren't tears of sorrow, I thought, they're tears of relief. She's not running away, she's **running to** something. Through the rear-view mirror, I could see Dawson collapsed on the dock. He had released her. He finally realized that if he loved her, he needed to let her go, and he was definitely feeling the pain.

"Should we stay?" Mitch asked as he stopped the car. "Maybe we should talk to him." "No, go ahead," Jen Lindley insisted, popping her head in the driver's window. "Go on your honeymoon," she said. "Don't worry, folks, we'll take care of him."

Have I ever said how much I loved that girl?


	4. Chapter 4

**IV.**

I look back on the Spring and Summer of 2000 as the time when I was forced to grow up. No more excuses. No more mid-life crisis. No more blaming my faults and foibles on the angst of turning the big 4-0. I became an adult 24/7 with a son who would soon have the right to claim that title as well.

You know how they say if you could do it all over again, what would you change? Well, I'd probably change a lot of things. But I'm also really lucky that I had the chance—with my husband as well as my son. I look back on that summer and I have no regrets because I feel I did my job as a parent.

Joey's flight from Capeside knocked Dawson off his feet; he hadn't expected that. I guess he figured she would talk Pacey into staying and that would be that. He didn't expect such a grand romantic gesture. No one did. Certainly not Bessie, her sister and legal guardian.

A very concerned Bess revealed everything when Mitch and I got back from Kauai. She came in for coffee and asked if I had time to sit down with her. That worried me. "What's up?" I asked. She didn't waste time on familiarities. "How's Dawson doing?" she asked. "As well as can be expected," I said. "He's hurt, but he hasn't let that stop him from getting out there and doing things with the gang. Jen, Jack and Andie—they're quite a trio and they don't let up on him." "That's good to hear," she said.

"We did think he'd run into Joey or Pacey sooner or later, but that hasn't happened yet." "Nor will it anytime soon," she said in one of her classic asides. "What do you mean?" "They're not here, Gale. Joey went with him to Florida." One, two, three. "She did what?"

"Not that they had anyone's permission, mind you. I knew when I saw Joey hightail it out of the reception that she was probably going to Pacey. I wasn't surprised when she didn't come home that night. Frankly, my fear was that she would use sex as a means of getting him to stay. But I wanted to trust her and decided to let her work things out. She's been in such hell these last few weeks, I figured she deserved whatever happiness she could grab. I just never thought that she'd…" For a moment, Bessie seemed lost for words.

"What happened? How did you find out?"

"By noon the next day, I started to get worried and I began making calls. Marge Witter knew nothing." "Of course." "She said 'The Sheriff' had given Pacey permission to sail down the coast as long as he stayed within sight of land and checked in every few days. She kept telling me how much she liked 'Jodie.' But here was a surprise: I didn't know that Pacey was now rooming with Doug, did you?" "Yes, Dawson told me." Bessie tossed a pained look my way; she was Joey's sister after all.

"Doug called me back that evening. He said that Joey had come to him looking for Pacey and he told her that the guy was really hurting. He had been so upset about something she said or did…or didn't do…I don't know, something about needing permission to say goodbye. Anyway, he'd decided to pack up and leave that evening. According to Doug, she gasped and turned around, running to the marina as fast as her legs would take her—and that was the last he had seen of either one of them.

"The next morning, I finally got a collect call from Rhode Island. Joey and Pacey were looking for some day work so they could buy some clothes and supplies. I really gave her a piece of my mind and she apologized profusely, saying only that she loved Pacey too much to let him go without her and that she thought it would be good for both of them to get out of Capeside. She felt they might have a better chance as a couple if they could explore their relationship without the consensus of friends and family to worry about."

I hated to admit it, but she was probably right. Smart girl, that one. Still, she was just 16. Bessie immediately echoed my concern. "Joey told me what the Sheriff's ground rules are and they seem pretty reasonable. But she also asked me to talk things over with Bodi. She said she would respect my wishes if we decided she should come home; she hoped that I wouldn't. Yesterday, she called from New Jersey and I had her put Pacey on the phone. I told him that Bodi would personally castrate him if anything happened to her. He laughed and then whispered into the phone, 'I love her. I promise you I will take care of her.' She took back the phone and told me rather dreamily that they would take care of each other, and that was it."

Bessie let out a long sigh. "What do you think, Gale? Did we screw up? Should I have done something different?"

I took a considered sip of coffee. "I think that we've always known Joey to be mature beyond her years…and she's finally getting a chance to prove it. It's a scary thing when they start batting their wings and get ready to leave home. You know that Joey could've graduated this year and been off to college in a few months, but she decided to stick around here for another year. So, in the grand scheme of things, what's the difference between June and September?"

"I can think of one big difference," Bessie reminded me, "Dawson." That sent a chill though me. "Do you want me to tell him?" I asked. "No, not quite. Joey wanted to tell him. But she was afraid she might not say the right things if she left it to a phone call…so she wrote him a letter. Do you think you could give it to him? I think it would be more proper that way."

Okay, big matriarch moment here. Should I be the bearer of these tidings? The answer came without the slightest bit of hesitation. Yes, of course. He's my son and I love him; I should be there for him. "Of course," I said. "Thank you for asking me, Bess." "Actually, it was Joey's idea," she admitted. "I guess Pacey is calling Andie tonight so…" "I should time this accordingly." Bessie rolled her eyes, then began scooting herself out of the booth.

"Let me know how things go," I told her. "If you ever need to talk to someone, I'm always here." "Thanks, Gale. But you're the one I'm going to be thinking about tonight. I'll see you later."

So we both had our dilemmas to deal with. Dawson had gone biking with Jack and wasn't due back until late afternoon, when he'd shower and grab a bite to eat before heading off to work at the restaurant. I thought about giving him the night off so I could sit down and talk to him, but I knew that after reading the letter he'd probably insist on going to work anyway; I didn't want him busing tables with all that letter might wrought weighted on his shoulders. Instead, I invented an excuse for him to take me home after the dinner rush and, against his wishes, we had that talk.

Dawson read the letter very quietly and intently. When he was finished, he folded it up; I later found it in the trash. He didn't want to talk, but I prodded him. He said he felt nothing, that this wasn't like the last time when Joey had trampled on his heart; he knew people cared about him and he was going to hold on to that. As far as Joey and Pacey were concerned, he hoped never to hear their names in casual conversation—he certainly didn't plan on bringing them up.

And he didn't, for an entire summer. Every couple of weeks, he would get a postcard from Joey indicating she and Pacey had traversed further on down the coastline. The openness of the communication allowed an occasional, inadvertent look at the message being conveyed. The only one I know Dawson kept was the one where she mentioned seeing something that reminded her of him and that got her thinking about how much she missed him.

Ironically enough, we all had a really great summer.

**zzzzzzzzzz**

Some weeks later, the postmarks on Joey's cards began making their way north again. And then they stopped coming. School was just a few days away and no one had heard from her or Pacey yet. One day, without warning, I caught sight of this young woman walking into Leery's Fresh Fish: tall with beautiful long hair, wearing a backless summer top and a fetching long skirt. I couldn't believe it when I discovered her to be Joey.

It appeared that she had already been to the Leery home and, finding no one there, decided to check how things were going at the restaurant. She was looking for Dawson.

After the perfunctory howdy-dos, she finally asked about him. "You know, I think he's doing fine," I told her. "The beginning of the summer was a little rough, but he managed to persevere. He's kept busy, lots of odd jobs and beach time." "Dawson at the beach?" she chuckled. "Dawson with a tan…" Actually, he was still pretty light. I never knew a blonde less inclined to hue golden in the summer months.

"Thanks for asking, Joey. I'm glad you didn't wait to check in. We missed you. Worried about you." Joey seemed to relax. "Speaking of tans, you've acquired quite a lovely one. How was _your _summer?"

"It was great," she responded immediately, then obviously thought twice about it. "I mean…" "It's okay, hon. You're allowed to have a good time. So where did you go? What did you see?"

Joey began to talk about her trip, still guarded about not appearing too enthusiastic—but I knew. It came to me like an insouciant epiphany: she really loves this guy. Deep down, I know Dawson is harboring some hope that she'll come back to him, but I don't think she is. Certainly not anytime soon.

The mere anticipation of Joey and Pacey returning to Capeside turned out to be the hard part. Though he was loathe to admit it, Dawson's restless uneasiness about the actual event quickly dissipated as soon as they were back. When Mitch confided in him about Pacey's problems at school, he had very little problem going to Joey and sharing that information. And when the two of them were assigned a project in class, he was the first to suggest your place or mine.

That surprised us—but it shouldn't have. Neither one was totally weaned from their co-dependency. And I suspect that although Pacey conducted himself as if his estrangement from Dawson didn't affect him, deep down it did. Mother Nature put those fragile bonds to a test.

Pacey had taken Jen sailing while Joey and Dawson worked on a debate for English class. The skies quickly turned sour and Pacey was unable to return to port in time. According to Dawson, Joey was preoccupied during most of their planning session, to the point where he was ready to take off—until he discovered that she had been distracted by the increasingly grave weather reports because Pacey and Jen were out there. She was nearly hysterical. There had been no communication from the _True Love,_ and the best case scenario was that their radio was broken and they were waiting out the storm somewhere. Dawson thought he knew where. Before anyone could say yay or nay, my son and Joey had taken off in a stranger's boat to try and find them.

Thank God all four arrived back at the marina safely. Grams hugged Jen tightly and chastised the owner of the boat Dawson and Joey had "borrowed" for thinking about money at a time like this; Mitch and I were simply happy to have our son back—clearly drenched, but with nary a scratch on him. Interestingly, no one came for Joey or Pacey, they just clung to each other.

I sat in the car watching my husband and son observe Joey and Pacey. Looking back, I realize it was our first view of them as a couple. They walked up from the docks to her truck and there was a moment there as they moved out of the shadows that I thought I saw Mitch and I as a young couple. I smiled seeing how gentle he was with her, and how much she seemed to be a natural part of him. Pacey opened the truck door for her and they kissed. I looked back at my son, knowing this must be painful for him to watch— why was he, anyway?

Yet I have to admit that I continued watching as well. Part of me was sad because I understood, even if my son didn't, that he and Joey had never been that intimate with each other. I had seen loving, intimate gestures on her part, but Dawson was more conservative and reverential. Pacey, on the other hand, treated her like a woman, and she responded accordingly. Did Dawson even see the difference? Did he get it? It was time to let go of that fantasy coupling—because this was it, this was real life.

**zzzzzzzzzz**

Ah, the sex question! Eh hem. Frankly, I thought they'd settled that one on the boat. There was nothing about Joey or Pacey's body language when they were around each other that made me think otherwise. Why not? Two gorgeous kids, obviously crazy about each other, alone and unsupervised for months—what were they waiting for? The tenderness and the intimacy and, most importantly, the love was certainly there. Unless it was because…

Well, Joey _was_ a virgin, wasn't she? You forget about that sometimes, forget how important that first time is for most girls. How we struggle with that milestone moment, wanting everything to be right…and how often it's not. Physical intimacy is one thing, sex—most particularly, intercourse—is another. The joy of sex is something you learn later, after you conquer the intimidating fear of sex. Of course, as parents we don't want to hear about our kids having sex at all!

Bessie was disturbed and needed a friendly female ear. Earlier in the day, she had accidentally come across some condoms and birth control information Joey had hidden away in her sock drawer—not very stealthily, I might add. Bessie called the find a virtual "birth control warehouse".

"Maybe she wanted it to be discovered," I enlightened her. "To force open that uncomfortable line of communication. It had to happen. Sooner or later, you were bound to encounter them in a compromising situation or…"

"No!" Bessie insisted. "They're not having sex, not yet at least." "How do you know?" I asked. "Because Joey told me. It took awhile, she wouldn't talk about it at all when they first got back. But she's dropped enough asides that it didn't take a brain surgeon to figure it out. Last week, she finally admitted it. That's why I was so surprised…"

"What? That she would be thinking about it and actually have the sense be prepared?" "No, that she would…" Bessie paused for a moment in thought. "I guess I always figured that she would come to me first, not rely on some stupid pamphlet from the clinic."

Bessie didn't realize that she had been the teacher most of Joey's life; she was the one who went first. Bess had a rough time in school. Her parents actually worked for a living so that immediately distanced her from the in-crowd; the fact that her mother was a part-time barmaid lowered her another notch, as did her lack of fashionable gear. Unlike Joey, who had a natural intelligence that immediately elevated her, and a feistiness that put kids on notice that she didn't care what they thought (though she actually cared a lot), Bessie withdrew from the high school derby and found her friends on the fringes. I guess she could have been classified as one of those girls you see smoking outside school, but that was too easy a label.

She was her mother's daughter and loyal to a tee. Bess was just out of high school when Lillian began to get sick; Capeside Community College wasn't even an option for her. She worked odd jobs around town, anything that would allow her to be around the house as much as possible for Joey and her mom. Finally, when Lillian became too ill to even sit at the cash register, she took over day to day operations at The Ice House.

She'd had a few boyfriends, but nothing serious until Bodi. Nothing she told her grieving sister about until she walked in on them making love at home in the middle of the day. Joey was shocked but not appalled. What made her angry was finding out a year later that her sister was pregnant. She got real scared then and it was Bodi, not Bess, who was finally able to reassure her that the Potter family would remain intact.

It goes without saying that Joey knew full well the consequences of teen pregnancy, and she was a careful sort. I should've thought of that when I shoved that sex book in her face a year or two later. Shifting into parental mode (read overreaction), I embarrassed her by talking _at_ her instead of _with_ her. She spent the better part of her formative years getting an earful from Dawson and Pacey about what boys wanted and how they thought—she probably could have taught us!

And yet I couldn't help but think about what _she_ thought about all those years sleeping chastely beside Dawson in his childhood bed. Now she had spent an entire summer presumably sleeping next to another boy…and she still hadn't had sex! It makes you question why, in current terminilogy, "sleeping together" is equated with having sex. It's so misleading. Sleeping together is sleeping together, sex is sex; they can exist separately or together or not at all.

Dawson had wrongly accused Joey of "sleeping" with Pacey at Gwen's—which apparently she did in actual fact, but he was reacting to the sexual undertones of the situation (and how charged that night must have been!) and not to the physical reality of it. I just found the fact that we were still talking about all of this months later very interesting. It gave me newfound respect for both Joey and Pacey; they were being considered in their actions and I think that deserves praise.

**zzzzzzzzzz**

Christmas 2000. The first Christmas of the new millennium and Gretchen Witter had begged Mitch and I to let her make the arrangements for the annual Leery Christmas party. She did a wonderful job. It was a great party. Sometime after nine o'clock, Joey and Pacey made what I can only describe as a movie star entrance to the scene. The couple had been at a dinner for prospective Worthington College students where Joey had been the focus of much attention. By the time they arrived at our little shindig, she was positively glowing, and so was the proud, attentive man on her arm. They looked like one of those beautiful couples you see in _People_ magazine.

Given these recent events, I'm not quite sure how to interpret their symbiotic reactions to seeing Dawson and Gretchen kiss under the mistletoe. Complicated is the only word I can think of. Dawson once told me that it still felt like someone was punching him in the gut every time he saw Joey and Pacey kissing—was she experiencing the same thing? The strangeness of seeing those lips not only on someone else, but on the sister of the boyfriend your erstwhile best friend had denounced.

It was probably territorial. I have absolutely no doubt that Joey Potter was and is deeply in love with Pacey Witter—there's no competition as far as that's concerned. But I suspect, at that time, there was a small part of her that still wanted to keep Dawson her safe, sexless companion. I'm not sure how much Pacey understood that dynamic, which can be an important one in a girl's life—why do you think so many gravitate towards gay companions? Oh my God, I don't mean to put my son in that _Will Grace_ category, but you know what I mean… Oh, forget about it!

**zzzzzzzzzz**

The day of reckoning arrived in a rather unexpected way, as is so often the case. Exciting news had been eclipsed by the heavy hammer of Fate. Joey had been accepted to Worthington College….only to find out two days later that the financial office had determined she must be responsible for 15,000 a year in tuition and fees. That was 15,000 more than Joey or Bessie had. Sure, she could earn some of it over the summer, but she knew the cost of just keeping up appearances on a campus like Worthington was going to be expensive, and she was too practical a girl to go into debt so early in her adult life.

Dawson rushed in with a solution—Mr. Brooks' legacy, the money that had been willed to him "to do something great". Once again, he offered Joey money without discussing the possible ramifications with his parents first. We tried to tell him this the following evening after he broke the news to us, but Dawson wasn't listening and the fact that Joey had already turned it down made it a moot point. Our son, God bless him, was determined to help and wouldn't accept no for an answer. He went to Pacey hoping that _he_ could talk Joey into it.

The bigger part of me wanted her to accept the money, knowing how much she wanted to go to Worthington—how much Bessie, indeed _all of us_, wanted her to realize that wonderful opportunity. But Joey is a proud girl and I'm sure she had many good reasons for refusing; Pacey probably knew her reasons better than any of us, and Dawson knew that.

The next day, I went home early because my back was killing me and Mitch had urged me to get off my feet for awhile. I was eight very long months pregnant and felt like an over-inflated balloon. I had just settled on the comfortable recliner in our bedroom when Joey came up the stairs. She stood at the doorway for a moment while Dawson worked at his computer. I could only see a bit of her from the back, but her body language definitely indicated someone lost in thought.

Dawson's voice jarred her into alertness. "From the look on your face, I take it Pacey couldn't convince you," he said. Once again, Joey found herself without the vocabulary to express herself. She urged him to stay on his side of the room while she attempted to impart a difficult story. A story about the compromises she had made along the way to "save" a friendship, only to risk losing it…again.

"The night that I ran into you at the movies, I was trying to make sense of things, too," she said, "and when you asked me that very personal question, you were right. I slept with Pacey over the ski trip."

_Okay, news flash. Joey had sex with Pacey? Not surprising. In fact, I wanted to say hooray! But Dawson had the nerve to ask her about it? In what world was that any of his business?_

"I wanted to tell you the truth, Dawson, but after all the time we spent together just walking and talking…It's like things are right between us again and it's better than I ever thought it ever could be. So when you asked me that question…I don't know, I thought that you wouldn't understand."

_You're right. If **I** don't understand why he would even feel he had the right to ask such a personal question, I don't think **he** could possibly understand why a woman would give herself to the man she loved, present day not past._

It was a private moment between Joey and Pacey and entirely up to them whether or not they wanted to share the news with anyone. Joey wasn't ready; the truth had eluded her. Something told me my son played a part in that, giving her 'the look' that evening. That look is a very special part of Dawson's repertoire. All of us have had to answer it on at least one occasion. It's an uncanny way he has of telegraphing his need to stay rooted in fantasy—and, for Joey, it's probably a look imbued with a traumatic history as well. I felt bad for her; she should've told him the truth but he never should have asked in the first place.

_Now, this is where it gets intriguing. Why was this act of intimacy tied into Dawson's monetary gesture? _

"I know I should have told you the truth," Joey said, with sadness and regret pervading every word. "I know it wasn't fair of me to let you go on thinking that things were still the same…" "That I was the most important person in your life."

_Bingo! _

He finally got it. Nearly a year after he'd first found out about her affair with Pacey, about a need and desire so great that she had been willing to risk everything important to her, Dawson had to acknowledge that someone else was the significant other in Joey Potter's life. Money would never change that. That had to have hurt.

The coda? This time, Dawson came to us and asked Mitch and I for an opinion. And after we had discussed _all_ the implications, how this would affect Joey and Pacey, not to mention what Bessie and Bodi might think, he went back a third time "because it's the right thing to do".

This time, Joey said yes.


	5. Chapter 5

**V.**

Lily was no longer sleeping through the night so we were no longer sleeping, period. It was up and down every couple of hours…and then she got the colic. Mitch had just put her down after a grueling crying jag when the call came in.

Who on earth would have the nerve to call at…What time was it? 2:59am.

It was Bessie. Dawson picked up the phone before I had a chance to ask what was wrong. He spoke in deliberate, hushed tones. "Joey and Pacey had a fight," I heard him say. He yawned and I woke up. If I had even thought about going back to sleep, I certainly wasn't ready now. My busybody reconnaissance mode had clicked into gear.

"Neither one of them was themselves at the dance," Dawson continued. "Something must've happened early on because I saw her wandering around, looking lost. I went to talk to her but she wasn't in a confiding mood. So we talked about…other things. Then I asked her to dance and she seemed to brighten up. She was actually laughing when Pacey walked in and started yelling at her. For no reason."

Let's roll that back a minute. When did Dawson ever keep information like this secret? Four hours earlier, he had arrived home—a surprise to both Mitch and I since we expected him to be out most of the night. After all, it was senior prom and what normal teenage boy didn't expect to be out most of the night with his girl, maybe even share a sunrise breakfast at the local diner before coming home? But here he was home before midnight and the most he would say was that things had not gone well and that Gretchen had insisted on being taken home.

So when did Joey & Pacey and the rest of the crew become part of this flight from reality equation? Indeed, _how_ did Joey & Pacey become part of this equation—and _why?_ Why would Pacey be angry to find Joey dancing with Dawson?

"The next thing you know they were having this screaming match in front of everyone," Dawson mumbled before clearing his throat. "He was saying the most awful things to her, Bess. I tried to break it up but Pacey pushed me away. He continued to berate her until she finally told him to go to hell." My heart was breaking. Poor Joey. Poor _Pacey._ What had gone wrong?

"She walked away. But I heard later that he tracked her down to offer an apology of sorts which only seemed to upset her more. Obviously, none of us was in the mood to attend any after-Prom parties after that so we brought her home."

So it was about Joey _not_ Gretchen. I couldn't help but think of a similar scene two years ago when Joey had angrily denounced Dawson for pushing her to turn in her father. She made her bitter point in the most dramatic of confrontations. Now the tables had been turned and she was on the other side of an apparently equally angry, even more public tirade. But I still didn't know why.

"I'm sorry I had to leave so quickly, Bess, but Pacey was still out in the limo—and so was Gretchen…_and_ Jen and Jack. All any of us wanted to do was to go home and deal with the fallout tomorrow. I was so worried. Is Joey okay? Bess? Did you hear me? Bess? Is she there with you? She must be, right? Okay, give me a call later—let me know she's okay."

He hung up the phone and I wandered into the room, knocking briefly on the partially-opened door. "Do you want to talk?" I asked. Knowing Dawson and how closed off he had become in recent years, I suspected he didn't—but **I** did, and I hoped that he might allow me that much peace of mind. Surprisingly, he did.

Being careful not to wake Lily (how she slept through the phone ringing in an otherwise quiet house, I'll never know), we went downstairs to the kitchen. I set up the coffeemaker and Dawson began to talk. Mostly about Joey, what she had been through and what a horrible scene it was…how he had tried to protect her and was rebuffed…and, finally, Gretchen's determined response to the evening's events. He didn't understand her "overreaction" to his "chasing after Joey," as she so succinctly put it.

"Mom, she told me to go after her. Was that so wrong?"

"Honey, she gave you permission to follow your heart. That doesn't mean it was what she wanted you to do. Maybe she needed you to stay with her and you didn't ask. Did you?"

"I…I…No," he said quietly.

Upstairs, I heard Lily beginning to stir again; a couple of hiccup cries followed by a puzzling silence and then a full-out blast of a wail. I ran upstairs to get her before Mitch woke up. As I held her in my arms, I thought about our conversation and realized that what I hadn't told my son was that Gretchen may have needed Dawson to show some concern for _her brother,_ who was obviously in great pain to have unleashed such vitriol on the girl he loved, in front of all their classmates.

But we never had that discussion. Whenever Pacey's name came up throughout the weekend—and granted that was practically nil—it only served to make Dawson more and more angry. I was becoming fearful of what might actually happen when they encountered each other at school.

Joey set him straight on that one. After two missed days, she returned to school with Dawson on her heels; in truth, he was her ride but I have no doubt he was determined to finish mending bridges and bring her back into his life fulltime. He was hurting, too. Joey told me later, somewhat guiltily, about their conversation that Spring morning.

"Have you seen him?" she asked after a long silence between them.

"No. And I hope I never do," he responded curtly, "because right now I'm afraid I'd just pummel him."

"Pull over," she said. ""What?" "Pull over. Right now."

Dawson did her bidding and she took off her seatbelt so she could turn and face him. She spoke firmly and directly. "Dawson, I know you think you're responding on my behalf, but if we are going to remain friends you have to promise me you'll wipe those thoughts out of your brain. This isn't Pacey's fault," she insisted. I could just imagine her voice softening as she fought back the inevitable tears. "None of it is Pacey's fault and I won't have you blaming him for something I provoked. I take full responsibility; I pushed when I should have been more supportive. I began leaving him behind months ago and didn't even realize it because I was too goddamn self-involved."

"Self-involved?" Dawson attempted to protest but she would hear none of it. "That anger should be directed at me, Dawson. If you care at all about Pacey—or me—you will back down." "Jo…" "Promise me, Dawson. Promise me you'll deal with whatever you're feeling elsewhere and back down from this." He had no choice; he complied.

Dawson re-channeled his energies into a new project which he called "Ways to Make Joey Laugh", stockpiling jokes sent via the internet, silly mementos from their childhood…anything to get her mind off her present-day misfortune. A few days later, he talked her into staying over for dinner and that's when I got the shock of my life. I couldn't comprehend the slender, sedated girl who stood before me.

She avoided uncomfortable subjects by wrapping herself totally in Lily-adoration. When she looked up to give me a smile, I was overwhelmed with a memory of her mother. As Lillian battled her cancer, enduring two rounds of chemo and finally radiation therapy, I often noted how "well" she looked. The effect was intentional. She didn't want her girls to see how ill she really was and had developed a makeup ritual that she called "painting on a picture of health". I let out a quiet gasp when I realized that was what Joey was doing. She had noticed after all, and now was painting on _her_ face—albeit subconsciously.

But this one was sharper, more hands-off; this one said leave me alone.

**zzzzzzzzzz**

I don't think Joey ever knew that Dawson considered skipping graduation to take off for a few weeks' respite with Gretchen. Oh, that's right. I wasn't supposed to know about that. Well, if you don't want your parents to know, you shouldn't leave the letter out! It _was_ addressed to us, and when he saw me eyeing it Dawson encouraged me to open the envelope. But the letter he never finished, the one he couldn't finish, was the letter to Joey; he gave up on that one. Leaving her wasn't something he found easy to put into words.

Looking back, I often wonder if my son was cognizant at all of the role he may have played in Joey & Pacey's breakup. Did he feel any remorse when he thought about the way he had belittled Pacey over the years? Or _did_ he even think about it? Dawson didn't take the town screw-up moniker seriously, but Pacey did. No wonder he felt "small" when compared next to academic over-achievers like Joey and Andie—and yet he always seemed to be drawn to them, didn't he?

How much did Pacey's self-esteem plummet when Dawson tried to use him to get Joey to accept his scholarship "gift"? Once again, someone else had rushed in to be the hero; the sidekick had the girl but he had to question for how long.

I knew for how long. I heard it in Joey's commencement speech. I saw it in the way she looked out into the audience as she pronounced her last heartfelt lines. "Whether you're here with each other now or you're merely in each other's thoughts, remember each other on that road ahead," she charged as her eyes anxiously scanned the enclave of students. "And I hope that no matter where your travels lead you in this life, you'll always take Capeside with you."

Forever, she said.

But Pacey wasn't present at that gathering. That was a grim discovery Joey apparently made later at a friend's graduation party. I saw her running away and, as my eyes connected with Bessie's, we both knew.

What an emotional day that was for everyone. I felt like I had two children graduating—and I was equally proud of both. I do believe Mitch and I took as many pictures of Joey during her speech as Bessie and Bodi did. I regretted not having put more thought into what to give her as a graduation present. Mitch and I wanted to do something special but, given all that had happened recently, we were reticent about stepping on toes. So we settled for flowers and a nice card with a plea for her to think about what she needed for school.

Oh, I forgot the picture. I don't even know why I had it, but I'd found a copy of Lillian in her high school graduation gown. I remembered it after hearing from Dawson that Joey had stopped by looking for me. Bessie had just given her a letter from her mother to be shared with her upon graduation and she was too scared of the memories it might inspire to read it alone. Dawson ended up with those honors and I was happy he was able to make that selfless connection. I made the mother connection and went searching for that photo; it belonged to her daughter.

**zzzzzzzzzz**

That summer was the first summer in eons that Joey and I spent quite a lot of time together. She had so much on her mind, and I think Jen, Bessie and I all shared an interest in helping her to lighten that load. Our first big discussion, however, was our most difficult one: it concerned Dawson.

Joey had arrived to meet up with him for a final movie night before he left for USC. The fact that she was an hour early was the first sign of how anxious she was about this monumental shift that was about to occur. She offered to watch Lily while I freshened up. When I came back downstairs, she was having a heart to heart with the two-month Chatty (okay, gurgling) Cathy sitting in front of her.

"Lily, what have they done?" she joked. "Pink clothes, pink toys, pink hat on your head. This can't be good for you." She paused to think about it. "Who am I kidding?" she continued. "You should just let them turn you into a girly-girl because eventually you're going to turn 12, stop liking math, start liking boys and it's all downhill from there. Trust me, I know these things, sweetheart."

I couldn't help but smile. "Ah, she likes you," I told her as I made my presence known. "She's just used to me. Babies don't really have taste, they're like dogs. You just have to speak to them in slow, even tones." Even then she didn't believe the power that those sweet, even tones had on other people; she still put herself down.

I had a feeling she wanted to talk so I asked her what the plans for the evening were. "Movies," she answered. "With Jack and Jen." "Sounds like fun," I said, knowing that there was little else for teens to do in Capeside.

"Yeah, it is. These past couple of weeks just hanging out, doing nothing, it's been great. I think I sort of forgot what that was like. I don't know. Sometimes you get so wrapped up in things you can't see the forest through the melodrama." I certainly knew what she was talking about in that respect and nodded along with her. "It's like all these things seem so monumentally important at the time, and then when you look back they just pale in comparison to the big things. Life and death…"

"And leaving home to start your life all over again."

"It's happening so fast. I mean, Dawson leaves tomorrow, Pacey's off sailing around in the Caribbean as far as I know…"

She sounded so defeated. "He still hasn't called you?"

"Not yet. But I'm not exactly #1 on his list of people to be talking to right now." She turned to the little one in the highchair. "Lily, beware of boys. They are a mind-altering substance far worse than crack."

"And twice as addictive," I added in hearty concurrence.

"You know, it's funny, isn't it? People always say things to little girl babies like, 'Oh, she's beautiful. She's going to break a lot of hearts someday.' Like it's something to look forward to. Sounds to me more like a curse."

"Well, when you put it that way…" I laughed in response but we both knew the sometimes bitter truth behind that statement.

"She is beautiful, though," Joey said, gazing once again at Lily. I couldn't resist giving her a bit of a hard time. "You don't think I went slightly overboard with pink?" Joey looked back with a childlike grin, then reconsidered her statement. "No. I mean, it's nice. You had to. You finally got the little girl you've always wanted."

"Yes, I did. I just hope she turns out as _wonderful_ as the one I already have," I assured her with a slight squeeze of her hand. That netted another demure smile.

Joey always seemed surprised when I would say such things to her, but I meant every word. She had been through hell and still managed to come out a sweet, sensitive and caring young woman who prided herself in academic excellence and had little use for chemical crutches like the latest designer drugs. I found that rather amazing.

She typically turned my compliment into another joke. "You mean Dawson?" she laughed mischievously. You can't imagine how happy I was to see that look! It seemed like it had been months since I had witnessed that other Joey, the formerly edgy, sarcastic, always willing to banter Joey.

But the smile faded. "I don't know how to say goodbye to him," she said after a hesitant pause. "Sweetie, he's just going away to school, he's not out of your life forever. You guys will see each other, keep in touch." "It feels bigger than that," she said. "I mean, he's going to be a whole continent away."

For a moment, I wondered if Dawson now regretted putting that distance between them, especially in light of how the year had ended, but Joey's subsequent confession underlined how little things had changed in her mind.

"I don't know how I would have survived the past few weeks without him. He's been such an important factor in my life—you all have, I hope you know that." The tears that began to form in my eyes now matched hers. "Fifteen months ago, I thought I had ruined things completely and I would never be able to look on this place as home again, that Dawson would be my friend in name only. But somehow you managed to keep the doors open, and even though Dawson once threatened he wouldn't be there when things fell apart…" Her voice broke. "He was," she said softly.

"He offered his shoulder to cry on and I leaned on him big-time. This house has been my safety net. It's not just Dawson leaving, it's me moving on as well. Even though Boston is only a couple of hours away…" She couldn't finish the sentence.

I walked over to her and drew her into my embrace. "Things just won't be the same without you, Joey. We feel that, too." She hugged me tight. "But you and I have a whole summer to look forward to. I'm not letting go yet!"

"How about some coffee?" I asked as we both loosened our grip minutes later. She nodded her agreement and I walked over to the freezer to pull out her favorite blend. As I filled the coffeemaker with water, I caught a glimpse of Joey's absent-minded fixation on the ring she was wearing on her right hand. It was a plain gold band that I had noticed months earlier. It looked so much like a wedding band, I had assumed it was something Pacey had given her. But then she had taken it off and now it was back on; he obviously was still on her mind. Now I understood her dilemma. How do you properly say goodbye to one boy you care deeply about when another still occupies your thoughts in a major way?

Joey caught me studying her. This time, she was more eloquent. She refrained from the temptation to beat around the bush. "Did you ever take it personally when a street lamp fluttered off just as you approached it?" she queried. "Like something about _your_ personal aura caused that electric response?" It seemed a strange observation to make at this time, but I knew what she was talking about. "I felt that happen very distinctly between me and Dawson a year and a half ago. He was walking towards me and I realized the light had gone out, it just wasn't there anymore. It had nothing to do with Pacey—we weren't even together yet."

I brought the first cup of coffee to her and she stared into it, her light brown eyes reflecting its darker brown depth. "I want to be able to tell Dawson how important he is to me without him getting the wrong idea. Is that possible?" she asked, obviously concerned. "Nothing has changed, Gale, we're just a year and a half older. And the truth is, if Pacey forgave me and wanted me back, that's where I'd be today. I still love him…" her voice trailed off.

"I know you do, honey. And so does Dawson," I emphasized. "I don't know if he has any expectations and, frankly, that shouldn't be your concern. Just be honest with him."

**zzzzzzzzzz**

Dawson flew out on an 11:50 flight from Boston the next morning. He had, he confessed, been up all night. After saying goodbye to Joey, he restlessly packed and unpacked his clothes until he finally gave into his anxiety and flew out of the house—only to find Joey walking back from the dock. They stayed up and talked most of the night. Hearing their voices, we kept our bedroom door closed to give them some privacy.

Lily, however, could not wait and finally sometime around 5:00am I got up to feed her and Mitch, just out of the shower and getting ready to take our son to the airport, found himself driving Joey home. "You're not rowing back in the darkness before dawn," he insisted. "You can pick up the boat tomorrow." Joey was quiet all of the way back to the B&B. Sad but content, Mitch said. He guessed the two of them had finally found a way to say goodbye.

Thankfully, we did not have to for another two months, and all of us took full advantage of that time. When she wasn't working at the B&B or the Yacht Club, Joey often stopped by to see if we need a "Lily-sitter", as she termed it. More often than not, I gratefully accepted. Over the 4th of July, the Leerys and Potters united for a camping weekend on Waldeck Island, which turned out to be Alex's first big camping trip as well as Lily's. Even the morning rain did not hamper our spirits as we spent the time inside playing board games and sipping hot cocoa. Joey later told me that she often thinks nostalgically of that time when she hears the rain outside.

And there was plenty of time for girl talk. Joey was so excited about going to Worthington, she had checked off nearly the entire school catalog when she was looking at classes for the coming year. But she was also unnerved by all the changes that an Ivy League entrée represented. The mere idea of that life apart had apparently scared off the boy she loved, would it alter other relationships as well? She was particularly concerned about Bessie. What if Worthington did change her and Bessie felt left behind?

"I think you're worried about vocabulary," I told her. "All those fine words will never change the bond between you." "How do you know?" "Because you asked," I answered firmly. "The fact that you're aware of it tells me that you're going to be extra vigilant in protecting that relationship. And you know what? Bessie's so proud of you, so determined to push you out of the nest, I think she's expecting _some_ things to change. In fact, I think she would be disappointed if they didn't."

**zzzzzzzzzz**

There was one thing she rarely talked about, one thing that never changed—and that was her love for Pacey Witter. After that first conversation, she buried those feelings deep. I only saw them surface once again during the summer, and that was purely by accident. Joey was watching Lily and I had gone into town on errands, telling her I didn't expect to be back until dinnertime.

But I finished early and walked into the house to find her slumped over on the coach, sobbing. On the coffee table in front of her were two pages of stationery filled front and back with scribblings. Pacey's handwriting. Joey had been carrying it around with her all day and, thinking it could only be good news, I had encouraged her to read it. It still took her a couple of hours to get up the courage…and this is what it had wrought. More pain.

"Are you okay?" I asked as I put down my packages and sat down next to her on the sofa. Joey looked up, startled, then pushed the letter towards me. My eyes drifted to the bottom of the first page. "I got my sea legs back in a couple of days, but my head has only recently begun to clear," he wrote. I turned the page. "I had to make a clean break, Jo, and this trip, however ironic the circumstance of its first being suggested to me, has represented just exactly that. A new start."

I had to stop reading. This was too personal—and obviously too painful for the young woman beside me. All I could do was comfort her and tell her things were going to be okay. "He still loves you, Joey," I said as I hugged her.

"What does that mean?" she stammered, too confused and distraught to continue. It took some time before she was able to calm herself down, taking slow, measured breaths to counteract that gulping sensation. I offered her a tissue. "I think I'm going to need a lot more!" she laughed somewhat apologetically.

When I returned from the guest bathroom where I had retrieved an entire box of Kleenex, she was seated on the floor with Lily. "I think I got the stages of grief all wrong," she told me without looking up. "Because I accepted the loss first…then I got angry. Now I just feel…" Her arms floundered around. "Helpless."

"There's no rule book on how to handle loss, Joey. Everyone deals with it differently. Just don't let those feelings fester, okay? It's very important to let them out once in awhile—let yourself wallow, if you feel like it."

"I think today's demonstration should absolve me for the rest of the year," she joked. Once again she shrugged it off, making light of her emotional response. By the time we had dinner on the table, it was as if the entire thing had never happened.

**zzzzzzzzzz**

September barreled into our lives and before we knew it, Mitch and I were saying goodbye to Joey as Bodi loaded the final box into the truck. Well, not quite the final. The Leerys and Potters had discussed it ad nauseum and finally it was decided: Bessie and Bodi purchased a cell phone and year's calling plan for Joey, and Mitch and I gave her the latest iBook computer.

"Dawson told me you're either a Mac or a PC person and the choice defines you," Mitch said as he handed Joey the box. "Something tells me this is yours." Joey was speechless.

"It's a late graduation-slash-going away present," I piped in as I sensed the beginnings of a protest.

"Not to mention payback for a summer of selfless babysitting," Mitch winked back. Joey had refused payment for any of the time she spent with Lily. That had been one of our best selling points when we broached the subject with Bessie and Bodi.

"Well? Are you're going to thank them? Because I must say you're going to be in serious trouble if you're this quiet at school," Bessie nudged her.

"Mitch, Gale…I…" She ran her fingers delicately over the graphic on front of the box. "Thank you," she said as she put the box down and went to hug both of us.

"You're welcome," I said, kissing the top of her head. "We're so proud of you, Joey," Mitch reiterated. He brought her chin up so he could look directly in her eyes. "Now, go get 'em, tiger!"


	6. Chapter 6

**VI.**

_I can't believe that he's gone. I keep expecting to hear his car in the driveway, his keys in the lock, his steps on the stairs._

"So how's the party?" I asked Joey in a feeble attempt to deflect my attention from the bone-crushing emptiness and pain now ruling my mind and body.

"Oh, it's fabulous. The pâté is all the rage," she said as she walked quietly into the room, our room. Except that there no longer was an "us", no "we" to make it "our"; he was gone —

_God!_

— and I was alone. Bonded in mutually-fated solitude, both Joey and I were dutifully shrouded in black. Mitch hated black.

_I just can't stand the way they look at me. "Shh! Here comes the widow." But it's even more disturbing than that. I can see it in their eyes: judgment. The wrong one died; **I** was the one who strayed._

"And how's our boy?"

"He's great. He's keeping it all together."

"Which is exactly what bothers me."

"Me, too."

Was it really less than a week ago that Dawson had come home to announce his intention to leave USC and move to Boston—to be near Joey? And we had told him he was wrong.

"He's stubborn, Joey. He's just like his father. He's going to need you."

"I'm not going anywhere," she said, her voice instantly comforting. "I know this probably doesn't mean much now, but he's not really gone, you know. Because if ever there was someone who was a complete reflection of his father, it's Dawson."

I'm not sure if I wanted to hear that. "You think so?" I said in auto-response mode.

"Maybe not on the surface, but the stuff that matters, the good stuff? Absolutely."

_That's funny because I keep fixating on all the bad stuff. I've been compiling this list of all of his flaws—of which there were many. _

_You know Mitch Leery. He was not the handiest of husbands, let me tell you! He couldn't fix an appliance to save his life. But he would always insist on trying…and make things worse._

_Mitch. You absolutely crazy…totally exasperating…completely lovable fool! _

_I think that the reason that I've been making this list is because I don't want to think about how selfless he was. If I think about that, eventually I'm going to have to start thinking about how badly I hurt him…and what a cold-hearted, selfish bitch I was. _

I broke down. "I cheated on him, Joey! My God, the horrible images I must have put in his mind. It seems like it was such a long time ago, but it wasn't, really. It was just a few years. And even though things were great, they were really, really great—I know he still must have felt some of the pain I inflicted."

I couldn't believe I was confiding this in anyone, but the girl who first discovered my "indiscretion" also knew something about the guilt I was feeling.

_When did she become the adult?_

"You know, growing up and spending all that time with you guys, I think I was too little to really understand it," she said sympathetically, "but I always knew that there was something special about the way you guys looked at each other. Like you were in on this great secret that the rest of us weren't privy to. My parents never had that, not even in the best of times.

"I'm not going to sit here and pretend to know what was going through his mind before he died, but I know your husband loved you very much," Joey said, placing her hand on top of mine. "I think he forgave you everything."

_Could I ever forgive myself? Our romantic idyll, tainted by my own failures, was over now. I could have given him years more of happiness, if only…_

_If only._

Sitting together in that bedroom windowsill overlooking the eerily-still creek, Joey and I recognized another sincere moment of understanding, and clarity, between us. Joey Potter, my surrogate daughter, the young woman whom we embraced as a member of our family, certainly knew Leery men. It might take awhile for them to come around, she would agree in covert silence, they might act stupid and childish and parade their feelings on their sleeves—but Leery men always came around, willing to forgive.

_Us._

But not always forget.

_Them._

**zzzzzzzzzz**

It didn't work for Dawson to put three thousand miles between him and Joey. He tried, but he could not stay away, either spiritually or in physical reality. His cell phone bills were staggering. What was more bewildering, even more minutes were wasted on incomplete calls than actual conversations; Mitch finally switched the plan to double minutes with Joey's dorm reflected as the favored number.

We had no idea that our son spent a long weekend in Boston—no idea, that is, until he showed up in our front yard, surveying his old haunt, anxious to tell us about a life-altering change in course. _He flew! To Boston. Right after 9/11. Was he crazy?_ I guess it shouldn't have surprised us. In Dawson's mind, his story with Joey had not yet played out, and the fact that _that_ was more important to him than an illustrious film career was strangely endearing…and disconcerting.

Mitch couldn't hide his disappointment. "If you're going to stand here and talk to me about crossroads and paths so you can drop out of school and go crash on a sofa, then don't presume to talk to me like you're an adult," he said finally, more frustrated than mad. My loving husband certainly knew about the dangers of pursuing a difficult woman, but he never doubted _my love_ for him. Was Dawson so sure Joey wanted him in the same way?

I watched my son playing with his infant sister on our lawn and my mind drifted back to the events of the previous year and a half. Who was Joey Potter really? Did anyone—Dawson, Pacey, Jen, her sister—ever really know her? There was so much she kept secret, even from those she loved.

The Joey Potter I knew as she approached her 18th birthday was lonely, scared, eager to make changes and at the same time terrified by it all—especially if it threatened to alter her treasured personal relationships, her anchor in life. That was the dependent part of her that held onto the past even as she flung herself headlong toward an independent future.

I hate to say it, but I believed my son had once again become her security blanket, her sure thing. As her world expanded to the world beyond, while simultaneously narrowing to a single college campus, I think Dawson remained the person she most relied on for advice and support. Was that love? Yes. Co-dependence? Most definitely. Romance? That remained to be seen.

College was already changing her in subtle ways. She latched onto her dream with both hands and everything else in between; she kept focused, intent on excelling everyone's expectations. The first changes appeared more external than internal. Clothes, makeup, girl things. Thanks to a little prodding from Jen and Jack, she had decided to lighten her hair, praying, she later joked, that the dark cloud wouldn't follow her to Boston.

Maintaining her contact with that dynamic duo became incredibly important. Joey ached for friendship, but always found it difficult making new friends. Her roommate Audrey said it had taken weeks for her to break down the intricate barriers she had erected for self-preservation. If Audrey hadn't been so determined, I have no doubt that connection could easily have become another missed opportunity.

Audrey refused to let her go down that insular road. And I know another person who wouldn't have let her get away with it. Unfortunately, that significant other was still missing in action somewhere in the Caribbean. By showing up the way he did at Worthington, Dawson, on the other hand, seemed to be encouraging his dear friend to keep herself sequestered—perhaps because it was the well-traveled road that led, as he had once predicted, back to him.

"Chose your own path," Mitch had pleaded with Dawson. "Dad, that's what I'm trying to do." "No, you're not. You're following Joey down hers." Dawson felt that he would have serious regrets if he didn't follow his heart and stay in Boston—near Joey. And I have to admit that the controlling, emotional side of me wanted him to do exactly that—to be near _us._ But, deep down, I still had honest reservations.

"Did Joey ask you to stay in Boston?" I asked him when we had a moment to converse alone.

"No," my son acquiesced without the slightest hesitation.

"Are you two…" "Together? No. It makes no logical sense, I know," he conceded. "The past few years of my life, I haven't done anything without a clear-cut objective. I've always been asking myself, 'What's my goal? What am I trying to accomplish?' And my whole life, everybody's always been telling me to follow my heart. The irony is," he noted, with some surprise, "now that I've finally figured out what that means, everybody's telling me I'm crazy if I do it."

I got the impression then that we weren't the first ones he had talked this over with. Were his friends in Boston equally reticent?

"People change, Dawson. It's a fact. You…all of your friends…you're all going to change. So if you are absolutely sure that you want to be with Joey, just make sure that you are not going to prevent either one of you from growing," I emphasized. "And, sweetheart, I am not dismissing this beautiful idea of soulmates, but the reality of eternal coupling…well, quite frankly, it boils down to one thing: faith. So ask yourself this question: is Joey the kind of person that you are willing to take a _very big_ leap of faith for?"

Unfortunately, I knew that she _was_ that person, in his mind, simply because he refused to think about it any other way. Reason played no part in my son's feelings about Joey Potter. He admitted being in the dark about where they were—and, even more important, where he expected things to go. He found it hard to decipher what he viewed as "mixed signals" from her. The old adage held hard and fast: the more he learned about Joey, the less he knew.

Though he once thought he knew her, Joey was such an enigma; she was Dawson's elusive ideal. I'm jumping ahead here because there was a conversation we had years later, when Dawson had a little too much to drink at a holiday party, that shed a great deal of light into his feelings then, and why he could never give up on her.

It wasn't just the childhood bond, he told me. "When we were together…she'd given me a glimpse of something else, a side of herself that I'd never really known…and I was spellbound. It was like being caught in the grip of a powerful electric current, and as much as I tried I couldn't let go. We were just beginning to explore our sexuality together when she cut it off. And then—well, it's years in the past now—she offered herself to me and I handled it badly. I rejected her. It was against everything in me, but I thought it was right at the time. Part of my anger with Pacey was the knowledge that _he_ got to continue the journey.

"Mom, I know that what they have between them is profound—but I wanted to understand that part of her, too. And I never really did."

Which brings us back to what turned out to be the pivotal relationship in Joey's young life: Pacey Witter. My primary reason for questioning whether or not she was the right person for Dawson to make a life-changing decision about revolved around my own observations of Joey with Pacey the previous year. Joey was too deeply affected by the failure of this relationship for any romantic liaison immediately afterward to be anything more than a rebound relationship for her, a search for comfort—something safe—when everything else seemed to be falling away.

On a very basic level, Dawson knew that but still didn't expect to be included on the list. Their history, he believed, awarded him a different designation.

**zzzzzzzzzz**

Reluctantly, begrudgingly, we let him go. What else could we do? Damn muses! They never seemed to cooperate when you wanted them to. Dawson thought he'd find new ones in California, but the USC experience, he confessed later, had been both exhilarating and frustrating. It offered a lovely, very expensively layered cocoon, but wasn't something that my son, who was used to making films on his own (and without fuss), turned out to be interested in. He preferred the nitty gritty, hands-on experience. Paradoxically, movies became his reality—_Joey_ was the fantasy.

In a way, Dawson used her as a crutch as well—an excuse to follow something different than the finely-tuned plan that had been mapped out for him years in advance. If he'd had a chance to reconsider, I'm sure Mitch would have seen this. Underneath all his bluster and concern, my husband knew going to California or staying in Boston was Dawson's decision to make. And he was proud of his son, a determined and decided romantic who was driven to express his independence by turning back to a familiar drummer.

Mitch knew the quirky ins and outs of marching to a different beat. My husband, the impossible dreamer. Yes, Dawson was his father's son…

_My husband. Mitch._

Mitch Leery was always trying to find, but never quite succeeded in, that one venture that would "make" him and his family. Ultimately, what he found was that _being_ a family was the hardest, most rewarding work of all. He loved it—and we loved him.

_I don't remember much about those days. There was a knock at the door, followed by the tentative ring of our doorbell, then a more urgent series of bursts…colored lights flashing outside…more voices and a hastily-delivered admonishment…the lights fading… And then that voice became recognizable: Doug Witter._

_How was it possible that Mitchell's light had been extinguished so quickly? He was doing something so ordinary…a last-minute milk run, the usual Sunday routine…_

"Pacey's here," she said. "He wants to say hi."

_Pacey's here._

The words spilled out so easily—as if they held no power. I didn't question them. "Ask him to come up," I replied.

_Dawson told me about the kiss at the airport. The one she gifted him with after another tortured battle over letting go and moving on. The grand gesture that may have lacked the meaning he sought, yet being the unrequited romantic, Dawson interpreted it as a foreboding of a more hopeful future. _

The moment I saw Pacey, and the ease at which Joey now operated around him, I knew that self-preservation had receded quietly behind a screen—a Joey veil. This wasn't the same girl who felt she was no good for the boy she loved, who beat herself up about not being smart enough or wise enough to help him when he needed her most. Neither was this the girl who had erected startling barriers after their breakup: _Dangerous waters – Proceed at your own risk._

No. This was a girl who miraculously had found her balance again.

_She's not surprised to see him. She's not flustered, unnerved, discomfited. Why not? Unless…_

Thinking back, I can vaguely recall Joey and Pacey wandering around the house, reconnecting with their past. It occurred to me that Mitch's death had robbed them of something as well. A trusted father figure, a surrogate dad—someone to look up to without fear of embarrassment, shame or bitter recrimination. The piece that made their dysfunctional puzzle whole.

_Why did we need milk anyway? Not for Lily, who was still on formula. Not for Dawson, whose goodbye had been so full of regret a few hours earlier. Not for me—hell, I don't even like milk! _

_Mitch's cereal._

I had no explanation for the reasons why Dawson kept Joey at arm's length during the days surrounding the funeral, refusing her comfort, her consolation. I didn't see him push her away. I _was_ surprised to learn that she had returned to school so quickly, but only because I had assumed Dawson would want her to stay. He didn't.

Another funeral years later, and another detached response from Dawson, caused me to see things in a different light.

_"He blames himself, you know."_

No, he blamed her. I'm glad I didn't know at the time, having lost myself in the myopic world of grief, because I'm afraid my reaction would have been severe. More anger, more tears. Would that have been enough to convince Dawson that his father's death was an _accident?_

You can't live your life around what ifs.

_What if…he had left five seconds earlier?_

_What if…he had left five seconds later?_

_What if…I had asked him to wait until the morning?_

I wondered why Joey had stopped calling. Days turned into weeks, and eventually months, during which time I did notice that there were more calls from Jen, Jack and even Pacey than Joey, and that seemed strange. Finally, I gathered up the courage to ask Dawson about it. He did not respond directly.

"What if I hadn't come home that weekend?" he queried in return. "What if…"

I stopped him. "I've thought about it too, sweetheart, and your coming home was a blessing. It gave you and your father a chance to reconnect, however briefly. You had an unique opportunity to tell him who you were…what you cared about."

"He was disappointed in me. His last words…"

"He never got to see that his dreams were still alive in you. But, Dawson, his last words to you were about love. He loved you."

"I told her it was her fault," he blurted out. I couldn't wrap my mind around what he'd just said. Someone had disconnected the comprehension button. "What?"

"I was drunk, upset. I told Joey that if she hadn't given me so many confusing signals, I wouldn't have felt compelled to stay in Boston to straighten things out. That Dad should've been driving me to the airport instead of…"

"Dawson!" I had buried the anger long ago, but this dredged it up again. It was so unfair. Somehow I think Joey knew that her best friend's anger was misdirected at her, perhaps even understandable. She forgave him without making him grovel—but she kept a respectful distance anyway.

The next thing I knew, it was _Jen_ whom Dawson was bringing home for the holidays. Another surprise, but not really when I considered the history. She had always been there for him, seeing him through his many "Joey traumas", as she good-naturedly referred to them, as well as his crisis of faith as a young filmmaker. She lent solid support. Joey & Dawson together was a childhood concept borne of mutual need and dependence; Dawson & Jen, on the other hand, seemed to be a very adult one. They were good for each other in so many different ways…and seemed happy in each other.

I often wonder whether or not that relationship would have survived if the powers that be hadn't intervened…again. Joey was robbed at gun point in downtown Boston and Dawson, who blamed himself for keeping her out so late (a filmmaking rescue mission), was beside himself with fear, worry and regret. The mugger was hit by a car and died.

_What if…it had been Joey?_

Faced with the potential of another devastating loss, my son predictably found it hard to let go. I think it scared him more than almost anything else in his life. It certainly woke Jen up.


	7. Chapter 7

**VII.**

It had been six months—almost to the day—since Mitch died. Four years and six months—plus or minus a Sea Creature—since Jen first stumbled across the teen triumvirate Dawson-Joey-Pacey. With all the history between them, and between us, Jen Lindley knew exactly what hit her: the Joey train. Except that Joey was never the engineer in charge, my son Dawson was.

Joey said she was okay. Physically, she was. Emotionally, she had been shook up, but to be honest she had endured more catastrophic blows to her body and soul; she had learned how to survive. My son had once been part of that remedy but, as it soon became infinitely apparent, she had learned how to survive even that loss.

Her confession to Dawson that she had almost become involved with her English professor (oh, yes, I heard about that one!) convinced him otherwise. An innocent schoolgirl crush? A magical flirtation with the world of intelligentsia? The repressed inner geek finally emerging? I don't think I need to speculate any further on that one. Given the privileged scholastic world that she was now thriving in, it seemed rather harmless and perhaps even, if I dare say, healthy. Joey was really, truly moving forward with her life… experimenting, trying on new lifestyles, new clothes. In other words, she was a _college_ student, finally expressing herself beyond the bonds of parental or familial guidance.

It made Dawson jealous as hell. And don't think Jen didn't notice! Wasn't _she_ supposed to be the adventurous one? The one who got into trouble with scoundrel musicians and too-handsome-for-their-own-good college professors? But it was Joey who jumped on a boat and ran away for a summer…Joey who painted a mural about "Possibility", then turned around and made the possibility of escaping what seemed a predestined life a reality…Joey who played the romantic field while Jen, on the rebound, hooked up with a high school sweetheart who imagined himself on the rebound as well.

The funny thing is, I still thought my son and Jen were better suited for each other than Dawson & Joey, especially in terms of temperament. They complemented each other. Dawson thought Joey needed security when she really needed someone to challenge her; _Jen_ needed security—and a little bit of excitement here and there. Nothing that Dawson couldn't handle if he hadn't been singularly focused on film, and unfortunately—again—Joey. Dawson didn't even realize how badly he had fallen back into that trap until poor Jen had wandered away from him.

They accepted their parting of ways bravely, as if it were completely natural to still be cohabiting the same space and not be a couple any longer. But I suppose they both learned how to do that from their parents. Damn role models. Sometimes they cooperate _too_ much!

The Lindley model had been less than convincing as they put on a front of togetherness, not for their daughter but for their co-workers and society friends. The Leery model denied the truth of their fracture until their son was caught in the middle; evenso, both parents found reasons to reunite under a divided roof until the family was made whole again. Was Dawson hoping for the same? Normally, I might have suspected just that…until I saw the effect that a birthday present from Joey to Lily had on him.

Hooked again—or maybe he had never unsnagged himself from that barbed entanglement. Dawson began reeling himself in, following Joey to Florida during spring break (though, strangely, his friend Oliver told me she never knew about it) before pursuing her on the more familiar turf of Capeside, MA.

That summer after her first year at Worthington was the happiest I think I had ever seen Joey Potter, perhaps because, for once, her happiness wasn't contingent on anyone else's. She was happy _in herself _and was expressing her independence in encouraging ways. At least from my point of view.

I didn't know she was such a talented writer; I should have figured someone with secrets had something wonderful to share. About one of those secrets: "The Kiss". Joey showed me the _Worthington Literary Review,_ the college journal which contained her suspiciously autobiographical tale of a young girl trying to find a way to say goodbye to her best friend…only to be confronted with the heartrending reality of a parting that befuddled her even more.

Reading that short story helped me to understand more about Dawson's dilemma—as well as Joey's. She was saying goodbye to a childhood fantasy; but my son, I'm afraid, was walking back toward it. He had read the signals wrong and Joey, in her confusion that first year on her own, not only didn't correct him, she started to think he was right. After shaking off the cloak of fate, weighted by three years of near gut-wrenching drama and lingering pathos, she tried on a similar garment of destiny.

It didn't suit her. When Dawson asked her to go to L.A. with him for the summer, she said no. Returning to California was a journey he needed to complete on his own, and she knew that. Her road less traveled that summer of 2002 involved her father and a tale of imperfect redemption, missed opportunities…and the time for forgiveness.

**zzzzzzzzzz**

"He pulled the trigger," Joey exclaimed. "I had fucking forgotten that—sorry for swearing, Gale—until I woke up screaming one morning."

Joey and I were having coffee after a particularly stressful post-Memorial Day weekend in Capeside. She had gone to see her father in Centerville and hadn't been able to share her story with anyone.

It seems the mugging had affected Joey more profoundly than any of us knew. Once again, she had put up such a brilliant front that life soon went back to its familiar routine, as well as boundaries. This time, however, she wasn't completely successful in suppressing her emotions, culminating in one frightful day with Joey alone in her dorm room, too scared to check what was outside her door, terrified of getting lost in the throng of students who barely knew her.

"It was only a couple of weeks after 'the incident', but I thought I was over it," she said, musing over a danish. "My screaming must have been pretty impressive because a couple of my dorm mates came running to the door, asking if _'Mel-O-Drama Aud'_ was okay—they naturally assumed she was the only one capable of causing such a scene. By then, I had broken into a cold sweat—have you ever been through that, Gale?"

I indicated no. "Well, let me tell you, it was not pretty. I muttered something about cold water in the shower and they went away. Then I started shaking." I wanted to put my arm around Joey, but knew that she needed to tell her story. "I made myself think about places I felt safe," she continued, "and the next thing I knew I was on the floor of my closet, reciting dialogue from _Jaws._" I smiled. Dawson would love hearing that a childhood ritual had reassured her.

All that fear, Joey told me, seemed to come down to one big fat "What If". Joey had blocked out an important detail about that evening: the man who mugged her had, in fact, pulled the trigger of his gun—the one pointed at her to stop her from calling the police—and it didn't go off because he had purposely (he claimed) neglected to load it.

_What if…he had?_

The answer to that question immediately paralyzed Joey with a sense of regret about bridges not crossed and ones sorely in need of repair. One, she felt, she had no right to effect changes on. That involved a former lover and a current roommate, a pairing she had virtually pushed together and given her blessing. Lusty pursuits meant that neither was there for her when she needed them most…but she never told them that.

The second precarious bridge concerned her father.

Joey's most talkative, soon-to-be expiring mugger had given her a lot to think about in terms of her errant parent and what his family had expected of him when they were at risk of being torn apart by grief and loss. His children demanded quiet strength when he couldn't comprehend anything beyond his own devastation—a loss magnified by guilt and remorse. He had resigned himself to failure as a husband and a father, seemingly without a struggle, and Joey in particular couldn't forgive that. Bessie had been more generous with her feelings, less judgmental—that is, until Mike put the entire family at risk with his criminal activities. Then she suffered the humiliation of discovering that her little sister had been more perceptive than she.

15 year-old Joey Potter blamed herself for the cynicism of being right, as if her father's backslide into illegal moneymaking ventures had been motivated by, in her words, her "avaricious need" for a solid, successful family unit. But 18 year-old Joey felt compassion and forgiveness for a wayward parent; she wanted to make amends.

To that end, she had returned to the prison in Daleman—only to discover that her father had been paroled four months earlier and had deliberately avoided informing either she or Bessie of his whereabouts. Again she blamed herself. Even if her father overlooked her "betrayal", the wounds were still deep enough to keep him from coming home; he had been afraid to face them. Luckily, Joey had been tipped where to find him (at a discount store in Centerville) and made a second attempt towards closure.

"He was working as a stock boy," she told me with some recalcitrance. "You know, the guy who makes sure there's enough eggs in bin and paper towels on the shelf. I found him in aisle 12 putting out Tuna Helper. 'Hi, Dad.' That's all I could muster up at first. He looked so surprised to see me. He started to smile, which made me happy, but then he took it back and his eyes went sad; he looked away. I knew that he was probably embarrassed, but I assured him that I just wanted to talk. I gave him a copy of the _Literary Review_ and told him that it contained a story he might like.

"Professor Wilder read the story aloud in class but had focused on the ending, the kiss. Yet the hardest part for me to write had been the beginning: the scene outside our house when Sheriff Witter took Dad away for a second time—not one of my better moments. I struck back with a vengeance at Dawson. Well, you know, Gale. You were there."

"I remember a young girl who was hurting so bad she couldn't see straight," I said sympathetically.

"It was nearly unforgivable," Joey maintained, her eyes steady, her voice sincere, "but somehow Dawson found a way to forgive me and love again. I thought that if I could do the same with my dad, we both might find…well, I guess it would be a sort of redemption."

According to Joey, Mike met her at a nearby café and the two spent hours nursing lattes while they discussed life-altering events. "It was painful and awkward and messy," she admitted. "But, eventually, he was able to look me in the eye. I think it's the first time we've ever been truly honest with each other. You know, in the moment."

Tears gave way to laughter and, inevitably, exhaustion as hope for the future diminished regret about past transgressions. Mike drove Joey back to Capeside in the Ford truck he had purchased only a few months before Lillian's passing. That truck, with its original blue paint rusted and fading, seats worn beyond repair, front fender dented, and a decidedly temperamental transmission, had held steadfast nevertheless. Joey and Bessie had often kicked and cursed it, but it managed to get them through some of the most difficult years of their lives. Mike promised that he would fix it, yet I don't think either sister cared if he ever did.

I was especially heartened to hear that Mike had spent the night at the B&B, allowing Bessie an opportunity to find solace in closure as well. She had been so quiet about her own need for absolution—though she clearly wanted it, badly.

"So, Dad's back," Joey announced.

"He is?"

"Kind of. Not here in Capeside. He wants to continue rebuilding his life."

"One small step at a time. I think that's wise," I told her, heartened by her news.

"But at least he knows he has a home to come back to and that he is welcome anytime. We're planning on spending the holidays together. He hasn't had a real Thanksgiving turkey or a Christmas ham in years."

"That's great news, honey," I said. The cash register jingled and I looked up, quickly noting the time on the clock. "Oh my goodness. I didn't realize it was so late. I'm sorry, Joey, I have to pick Lily up from daycare. Please tell Mike I would love to hear from him whenever he gets a chance." I scooted out of the booth.

"I will," she said, adding some extra change to the tip as she rose from the booth. "Thanks, Gale."

Our girl talk session ended in another one of our familial bear hugs—and in that gesture of intimacy between a young woman and her self-appointed surrogate mom, I too found a measure of redemption…and renewal. I didn't realize how much I had missed Joey that year.

We ran into each other on and off throughout the summer. Having found a stay-at-home mom who ran a most excellent daycare (and was willing to take Lily during after hours), Joey was unfortunately relegated to backup Lily-sitter. Twice, I ran into her walking hand in hand with a rather attractive young man she'd met through work…but he soon disappeared. We also crossed paths at the trendy coffee shop around the corner from Leery's Fresh Fish. Joey often escaped there, iBook in hand, to do research on grants and special programs she might be eligible for. She tried to apologize for not stopping in at the restaurant, but I wouldn't hear of it; I liked the coffee at A Jolt of Joe, too.

Less than a wink and a nod later, Joey was back at Worthington and I was again worrying about whether local business would be enough to keep the restaurant open during hurricane season.

**zzzzzzzzzz**

I don't know what I expected Dawson to say. "Hey, Ma. I slept with Joey. But it didn't work out, she found out about this skank actress back in Hollywood and now we're barely speaking."

A warning would have been nice. Anything in the "things changed between me and Joey" category. Instead, thanks to a vocal treatise from one Audrey Liddell, Christmas 2002 inadvertently turned into a confessional regarding all men known to be affected by one Joey Potter.

The troubled Audrey who visited us that Christmas holiday was a stark change from the bubbly Miss Liddell who had livened up our summer scarcely two seasons earlier. From the moment she arrived at the house, our merry celebration melodramatically turned into her own private pity party. Clarity eluded her until a telling moment revealed itself: a not-so-innocent kiss under the mistletoe.

Fortified by some wicked Tom & Jerrys (mixed by Dawson's inebriated mentor and my unexpected suitor, movie director Todd Carr), Eddie Doling had been trying for the better part of the afternoon to catch Joey under the mistletoe. Despite his best efforts, all Joey's tall, handsome and rather charming new beau received was a sweet kiss when they first walked in, followed a much briefer smooch when Joey was helping me set the table.

Not that she was ignoring him. Walking into the festively-decorated family room that day, she had proudly presented Eddie to me, hanging on his arm as she playfully described their misadventures as an overly ambitious student sparring with her arch nemesis in an evil professor's discourse on 20th Century Literature in a Post-Modern Era. She scrunched up her nose in that cute bunny kind of way when he made a joke only she understood.

Just before we sat down, however, Joey accidentally bumped into Pacey, and in a rather whimsical moment pulled him in for a kiss that lasted a bit longer than either Audrey or Eddie were comfortable with. Audrey poured herself another shot; Eddie sat down and pondered. He looked neither right, where Pacey was pulling out the chair for Joey, nor left, where Natasha, Dawson's new girlfriend, surveyed the scene.

_Hail Mary, full of grace…_

Where do I start? Todd Carr's insufferably long and significantly off-topic attempt to say grace…Mike Potter's bristling commentary on poor Eddie's future job prospects…or Audrey's nakedly honest analysis of the eternal Capesidian triangle? This is one family event I am glad Dawson didn't record on his HandyCam—evenso, the exchange remains burned into my memory.

"_Mr. Potter?"_

"Yes, Audrey?"

"Can I ask you another question about prison?"

"Sure, Audrey."

"Yeah," she droned. I should've known then to divert her to a guest room before the conversation devolved into something unpleasant. But I didn't. "So…why is it that you don't think Eddie's good enough for your daughter?"

Joey glared at her roommate. "Audrey. Back off," she said with the flip of her hand.

"What is your problem, Princess? I was sticking up for Joe Dirt over there."

Joey checked for Eddie's reaction. "This isn't gonna end well," the man on her right interjected.

"Why don't you shut up, Pacey?"

"You're out of line, Audrey," he reprimanded.

"Of course I am. Anyone messes with the one that got away and you get all up on your high horse, don't you?" _ Zing!_

"Audrey."

"Oh, excellent. Another party heard from. What's your problem, Lindley?

"I think you're the one with the problem," the guest across the table noted with sadness.

"How devilishly clever of you, Jen. Oh, honey, are you still upset that I shagged your dream boy? Because I am sorry about that."

_The sting of another arrow. _ Joey, wide-eyed in horror, put her hand over her mouth as Eddie studied her reaction.

"What are you even doing here?" asked Jen, who seemed equally embarrassed for her grandmother, also in attendance.

"I missed my flight, bitch! Which is really terribly unfortunate because if you think that spending Christmas here on Walton Mountain is my idea of a good time, then you all are about as high as I am right now."

Now officially mortified, Joey turned away from her friend, locking her arms as if to avoid touching anyone. Looks were being exchanged around the table. I had to do something. "Audrey, why don't you go lay down?" I suggested. That didn't help.

"Oh, you know, thanks for that, Gale. Really. But I'm kind of just getting started here. Do any of you have any idea how incredibly hypocritical this whole little gathering is? I mean, I may be flying high on a pleasingly potent cocktail of vodka and painkillers—and thank you, by the way, Gale, for the painkillers, but I seem to be seeing things a little bit clearer than any of you."

_H-E double…Damn, just plain damn. _

Audrey turned her attention back to the triangle. "Dawson, Pacey. You guys hate each other, don't you? You're never going to be able to mend this little rift that exists between the two of you, so why do you even bother with the charade?" _Zing!_ Dawson took on the bemused smirk of his Hollywood girlfriend, but Pacey appeared genuinely hurt.

"And Dawson and Joey?" Joey glanced guiltily at Eddie before closing her eyes for what was coming. "Here you are, both of you, all grown up and so very pleased with yourselves," Audrey taunted them, "and each with your little significant other by your side respectively. And while I will give you that it does make for a pretty picture, the truth of the matter is you guys finally slept together, and you've never really dealt with it."

_Oops. _ **NEWS FLASH!**_ Not to mention another on-target zinger. _ "And neither of you are gonna be able to have a relationship with anyone else until you just finally deal with your crap once and for all." My mind was now racing, distracted by confidences never shared.

Audrey focused her final venomous tirade on the pair who had hurt her most. "And as for you, Pacey," she said bitterly. Joey, now visibly angry, stared her down. "I am really sorry that Audrey Hepburn next to you broke your heart all those years ago and it's prevented you from ever fully committing to an adult relationship, but you know what? Just grow up.

"Merry Christmas, scum suckers! Peace out."

A collective sigh of relief was evinced as Audrey stormed out of the room, everyone so caught up in the turmoil within that they failed to notice that Audrey had grabbed her ex-boyfriend's car keys. Two minutes later, she was back in the house—as was Pacey's brand-new BMW and half of our front entryway.

All parties scattered, first to make sure Audrey was okay, then to assure themselves that **they** were okay. While Pacey negotiated with his brother Doug about whether or not to take Audrey in on a DUI, Jen sat with Audrey hoping to use some of her counseling experience to help a friend. Todd passed out. Natasha packed her luggage and called a cab—with little protest from Dawson. And Joey sat in the midst of it all, balancing her attentions between Eddie, her family, and the man across the room who was more concerned about a former girlfriend than he was the condition of his luxury car.

Joey followed Eddie outside, making light of the spectacle that had taken place, but he was ill-equipped for good humor. The next thing I knew, Eddie drove off—leaving the Potter family stranded since he took the car they had driven to my home in. Joey seemed surprisingly unconcerned, sure that she could patch things up later; she just needed to give Eddie time. She went in search of her ride home.

**zzzzzzzzzz**

"Some night, huh?"

Pacey and I were standing outside assessing the damage to the Leery homestead. Once he had negotiated Audrey's release, Pacey grabbed a tape measure and pad and started making notes, clearing the rubble away as he went along so that his car could be towed out and something put up to cover the gaping hole in the wall.

"Dutch will have a truck here in a few minutes," he assured me. "He's bringing tarps to nail down for the time being. I don't see any damage to the support beams. If we close off this room, it shouldn't get too cold in the rest of the house and you'll be fine until the morning."

He closed his pad. "I'll be here bright and shiny in the AM with a crew and lumber. I won't be able to call the insurance company until…"

"It's okay, Pacey. It's not your fault. We've survived late season hurricanes, I think we'll make it through this. Besides," I said as I watched his eyes follow Joey walking down to the dock, "if anyone has anything to apologize for, it's going to be Audrey when she wakes up in the morning. That call to her parents she's been putting off is going to be a doozy to deal with on top of a killer hangover."

Pacey nodded, but I'm not sure what he was agreeing with.

"Did you know about this?" I asked, motioning toward the couple that now had his complete attention.

"Yeah," he said. "Couldn't miss it—the aftermath, that is. It was supposed to be a surprise birthday celebration for Joey. Some surprise," he noted with an obvious trace of irony.

"That must have hurt," I commiserated. I couldn't help but feel the familiar dynamics click back into place…yet perhaps not so much after all.

"I have no claim on her," he responded quickly. "I'm the one who let _her_ go. Then I dangled my independence in front of her by sleeping with her roommate."

"Not the best of ideas."

"Decidedly not. Unless…"

"What?"

"I don't know. I think maybe it was something that had to happen. Maybe if those two had slept together earlier I would have been more sure about where I stood with her."

"You think?"

"I don't know. Yes, no." His eyes met mine, probing. "How do you­ feel about it?" I cleared my throat, not sure what I felt. "If I may be presumptuous. You don't have to say anything…I mean, it must be weird and all…"

But I had to let him off the hook. "Sad. Relieved. Hoping they can finally move on. I really thought Joey had."

"Old habits die hard."

I don't know why, but I suddenly blew Audrey-style. "You want to know the truth, Pacey? I think they've always been better friends than lovers and that _we're_ the ones who constantly sell them on the fairytale. I think there is a possessiveness between them that is extremely unhealthy, that my son is looking for something perfect that doesn't exist—and that I've never seen Joey as happy as she was when she was with you. You, Pacey. Not Dawson. Do you know how lonely she was that summer you left? How much she cried?"

I didn't let him answer. "I think that Eddie is you, safely removed from past history and prior offenses. _You_ are what she's always going to want."

I felt bad, but it was the truth—when would he ever recognize it?

"I'm sorry, but I have to go in and take care of what's left of my guests. You're not the only confused soul. There is a lot of alcohol-induced pining going on in there. See you tomorrow, Pacey." I kissed his cheek. "Sorry."

Pacey stood there, his mouth open as if to speak, his eyes frozen in thought as I walked back into the house.

Pot, kettle—black. Called.


	8. Chapter 8

**SHE'S NOT MY DAUGHTER**

**VIII.**

I lost touch with Joey for awhile. Neither of us meant to, I'm sure. Life, work and school simply pulled us in different directions.

Joey had been a pillar of strength during Dawson's latest crisis of cinema faith, virtually reinventing the wheel, so to speak, as she marshaled a broken shoestring budget into a mended one strong enough to get my son the equipment, film, actors and crew he needed. Within a few short weeks, his modest script became celluloid reality.

Pacey, Jack & Jen were there, too, hustling the cast and crew into shape and, whenever possible, finagling freebies from local merchants in exchange for onscreen credit. It was a happy and exciting time, full of promise and possibility. How wonderful to take part in a production that grew out of resolution instead of conflict! I can see Joey now, effectively directing the action behind the scenes so that Dawson didn't have to worry about anything except getting his story——their never-ending story——on film.

By then, thank goodness, Joey was growing her sophomore year auburn and brown-colored hair out, letting the _real_ Josephine Potter shine through again. That two-toned hair had given her an uncertain edge, but it was still the same ol' feisty tomboy, now a grown woman, underneath.

After the wrap, I watched in admiration as she allowed herself the satisfaction of a smile for a job well-done…and then she was gone, slipping away to Paris to realize her own dream before anyone had a chance to say good luck or thank you. Even more surprising, she didn't come back for nearly six months——something I was aware of but didn't know the full details until I ran into Bessie the following summer. We had both been called for jury duty, and being civic-minded community leaders (yes, Leery's Fresh Fish and Potter's B&B now had community standing, according to the Capeside Tourist Board) we knew we must comply without fuss.

It was a _l-o-n-g,_ hot, muggy day. Plenty of time to catch up on family life and gossip as we put down our magazines and gathered near a rotating fan. Lily was then three years old——though she always held out four fingers because uncle Pacey told her the little finger only counted as half. That half year was _very important_ to my pretty little girl——especially since her favorite playmate, Bessie and Bodi's son Alexander, got to hold up all five fingers and he was in school!

That February, Bessie and Bodi tied the knot…finally. They wanted to have more children and decided it was time. Leery's Fresh Fish catered the event, but I'm afraid it wasn't the same without Bodi cooking. The hit of the day was, in fact, the cake provided by The Cash Cow, a cake designed by the one and only Pacey Witter. The other surprise of the day was Joey's very brief, almost non-existent appearance. She looked frail and didn't have much color and, frankly, I was very concerned. Why hadn't anyone said anything?

I found out later as we sat in the jury pool waiting for our juror numbers to be called. "Joey didn't want to alarm anyone," Bessie admitted, "and we had already pushed the date back once." I remembered that. The original date was in December and neither Bessie nor Bodi had offered any explanation why it had to be changed.

"Joey got very sick after she returned from France," Bessie revealed in a soft whisper. I reached for her hand as she continued. "It turned out that someone she had been seeing had come down with mononucleosis and was contagious."

"Dear Lord," I gasped in sympathy. I could see the worry still etched in poor Bessie's face.

"She had been working so hard over there, going to classes at the Sorbonne for a semester and working nights and weekends. The manager of the pension where she was staying offered her free room and board in exchange for help at his Boulangerie next door. So the waitressing finally paid off for her, but her defenses were down. I don't know how long she saw this fella, a young artist, but it was long enough.

"When she returned to Worthington, she tried to jump into another heavy credit load back i_plus_/i work at Hell's Kitchen. I called to check in a week later and she sounded awful. She tried to pass it off as a bad cold, but it didn't get better. I drove to Boston to see for myself and ended up taking her straight to Emergency. She could barely stand up, let alone breathe."

"Bessie! How could you not say anything?"

"Joey wouldn't allow it. She said everyone was too stressed out already with the holidays and trying to keep up during a tough junior year."

"But we're practically family!"

"I know, Gale, and I felt guilty not allowing Bodi to say anything. But Joey was adamant. She felt she was letting people down if she didn't stay strong in school and beat this."

Damn Potter pride.

"She especially didn't want Dawson or Pacey to know; she didn't want to be pitied _or_ rescued…didn't think it was fair after what had happened with Pacey."

What happened with Pacey? Oh, right. I couldn't help recalling a vision of Joey and Pacey sitting on my dock talking after Pacey confessed to Dawson that his investment money had been lost. I thought then that their relationship had been an adult love affair framed by adolescent insecurities. Obviously, those insecurities had yet to be resolved.

I had further insight into that progress——or lack thereof——when I overheard a conversation between Jack McPhee and a somewhat cranky Mr. Witter a few weeks after Joey had left for Paris. Pacey was nursing a bad toothache and it was his moan that first caught my attention.

**~*~**

"I thought things were fine between you, man," Jack said.

"Define fine."

"You're friends. You got over the breakup…and the guilt."

"We got back together."

"Say what?" Jack spit out. I think I was as dumbfounded as Pacey's friend.

"We kept it quiet. And it didn't last for long, sadly." Pacey raised his cold glass to his jaw. "She got scared and ran. So…"

"No ex sex?"

"Nada."

"Now she's in Paris."

"Apparently. I didn't get the announcement. Got a postcard yesterday though."

"And I'm assuming it didn't say that she was thinking of you."

"No. Having the time of her life and looking into staying on for credit abroad. So that's the end of the fantasy honeymoon."

"What are you talking about?"

"I just always thought that it would be her and me, you know? Together. In gay Paree. And for a moment there, she let me think that it was possible."

"Whoa. You're like a mile ahead of the track here, Pacey. And if you want my advice, you've got to stop doing that perpetual dance around each other," Jack admonished him. "Let her go, dude."

**~*~**

He did let her go. And the second time wasn't any easier than the first.

"I feel so bad for Pacey," I confessed to Bessie.

"Joey did too. When we returned to that apartment she was sharing with Erin & company, I begged her to let me tell Pacey and again she refused. I slept on the couch that night intent on making sure she was really okay before I went back home. Early the next morning, she hobbled out in tears and confessed that she felt guilty about having devastated Pacey so completely. Apparently, the two of them…"

"I know."

"You know? How?"

"I put two and two together and made five," I covered. (I wasn't supposed to know, remember?)

Bessie appeared confused, but continued. "Anyway, they were about to make a second try at the relationship only this time it got serious too fast."

They were always serious too fast; they couldn't help it.

"Joey felt Pacey was on the verge of a proposal and she knew she wasn't ready."

"So she ran."

"It's in her blood," Bessie confirmed with a wistful sigh. "Fear of happiness can be a strangely strong emotion."

Boy, I knew that one well!

"Joey once hoped to graduate early this January instead of next June but now…I hate to say this, but I think she'll be lucky to graduate on time. Her professors have all been great, it's just a lot to ask of someone who's still so fragile."

"Yes, it is," I concurred.

"And it doesn't matter anyway. All that matters is that she's fully recovered and ready to move on."

"Absolutely."

"Interestingly, the headhunters have started to come a-callin'——senior year hasn't started and she's already hearing about job prospects."

"So she's more motivated than ever."

"Right."

I drew Bessie in for a long-overdue hug. "That's our Joey."

**zzzzzzzzzz**

After that conversation with Bessie, I vowed to never again allow this beloved surrogate daughter get away with slipping out of sight without a word between us. I became computer literate and made it a point to e-mail her something, anything every couple of weeks. They were mostly humorous pieces, sometimes a local editorial or something in the "I can't believe he/she said that" department. Once in awhile, Lily would add a little message; I think Joey liked those notes most of all.

Bessie told her she'd stop sending money, Joey wrote, if she went back to work at Hell's Kitchen so she was now grading papers for Professor Hetson. She audited some classes during the Summer and came back in the Fall ready to kick butt.

She met a boy. A medical assistant at Boston General, where she now went in for regular checkups. Charles was going to accompany her on a trip to the Big Apple to investigate some "promising internships," according to Joey. The couple broke up soon after, but at least it was an amicable split devoid of guilt and adolescent posturing.

Our families spent the following Christmas together and I was overjoyed to see the youthful luminescence return to Joey's face. Mike Potter seemed equally pleased, determined that the unusually tempting holiday spread would help to deposit a few more pounds on his daughter's rail-thin frame. "She's too young to look so old," he complained.

But her renewed energy seemed to burn it right off. Joey was especially excited about an upcoming internship during the semester break: three weeks right in the heart of Manhattan at Scribner & Sons. In another e-mail I would learn that New York was eerily the same city she had visited four years earlier. Only it wasn't, she reported. There was something unspoken and wounded underneath, though not quite the poignant melancholy of 9/11 survivors that she had expected. She found inspiration in that.

And then, before we realized it, college graduation was upon us. Dawson had long since given up on an "elitist" college education and my favorite budding restaurateur, Pacey Witter, had found happiness honing his skills in a less structured environment——but Ms. Josephine Potter had persevered and distinguished herself in the rarefied collegiate world.

It was hardly my victory, but I still considered her part of the extended Leery family and couldn't resist taping the graduation ceremony in which she received not one but three prestigious honors for her work. That stunning brunette beauty with the gorgeous grin graduated Summa Cum Laude. Summa: with _supreme_ honors. I was overwhelmed by a thesaurus of emotions, as Dawson would say.

Joey didn't have time to rest. One week later, she moved into Jen Lindley's apartment in New York to start her publishing job. A month or so later, I received a note that she had found an apartment of her own on West 24th Street——ironically, just outside the real Hell's Kitchen. I sent a housewarming gift… But do you know what? I can't remember what it was! (Those old-timer's lapses are becoming far too frequent these days.)

**zzzzzzzzzz**

Joey was happy. Dawson was happy. Pacey was…semi-happy. Definitely not the lovable goofball we all knew from high school. More serious, and yet less so when it came to relationships with women. He played the field with scarcely a concern about having anything close to permanent in his life. He was drifting.

_**New Pacey Witter body vocal**__ - Keeping women at a distance. v. To deny love; failure to involve. n. Commitment in reverse proportion to need._

Pacey seemed to have a lot of female friends. Tall ones, blonde ones, some fresh out of college, others long out of school——and married. In that respect, he hadn't changed at all. Rascal or not, women loved him. Long after the romantic relationship ended, Kristy Livingstone once told me, he still remained a sympathetic ear and he was especially good with kids. Wes Rinehart, the owner of The Cash Cow, even got Pacey to sign on as an umpire in the local Little League.

If Pacey Witter once feared becoming a Capeside townie, he could never have imagined the esteem and respect he now engendered. It was something to see.

On the other hand, the pleasure of seeing the young adult Joey Potter operating in her milieu was something we Capesidians were rarely afforded. Oh, yes, she'd show up on an occasional holiday or long weekend, but nothing you could set the clock by. According to Bessie, she often asked about Pacey; how he looked, what he was doing. Then in the Spring of 2006, she came to Lily's 5th birthday party accompanied by her boyfriend, Mark, a post-graduate student at NYU. Pacey was there as well.

Joey and Pacey stood at opposite ends of the party for what seemed like eons. Joey gushed to Lily about her treasure of gifts; Pacey simply brooded——a circumstance which didn't go unnoticed by the current girlfriend standing beside him. He pretended to look around and converse with others, but inevitably his eyes wandered back to Joey. Just Joey.

"Are you going to introduce me or what?" his date finally asked, clearly frustrated.

Jolted from his trance, Pacey seemed confused. "Excuse me?"

"Miss Bambi Eyes over there. I assume she must be an old flame. Are you going to show your manners and introduce us or are you going to stay in the corner and drool…at which point I bitch-slap the girl and find me a ride home?"

Oh dear, this wasn't going to go well.

Pacey reluctantly——_very_ reluctantly——escorted his girl across the lawn to make the proper introductions, shaking hands with Mark and giving Joey a brief hug before scooping up Lily and retreating to the refreshments table. Joey giggled; Miranda what's-her-name fumed. A few minutes later, I saw Pacey chasing after his date, their animated argument lost in the lulling Spring breeze. Exit GF #26.

As I later learned, unbeknownst to Pacey, Joey and Mark would also have an argument. This one occurred later when they got back to New York, and it had nothing to do with Pacey——at least, Joey never indicated as much. It was more about a general sense of restlessness both of them were feeling, she said. By the end of the month, the couple had split and Joey had sworn off "professional students".

I don't know if Joey & Pacey ever entertained the idea of a future together at this point. The odds didn't seem to be in their favor. Neither was the history. They had come together quickly, bonded by mutual insecurities; tragically, those same insecurities tore them apart with nearly devastating consequences. How could a future together ever be possible if neither one of them was willing commit to their present-day relationships? Was their emotional bond that strong——or forgiving——absent of trust?

_**Lesson 5: Joey & Pacey vocab**__ - Inability to accept other partners. v. To be lost in a flawed past, seeking renewal. n. Questionable redemption via negative wish-fulfillment._

**zzzzzzzzzz**

Joey once told me that it was a dance instructor who first enlightened she and Pacey to their "screwball mating ritual", their attraction to each other. The awkwardness and tension between them that both had been struggling with, perhaps for years, was a sign of a much deeper sexual chemistry. For most of their young lives, both were so focused on denying it that denial had become second-nature to them.

Ironically enough, it was Pacey Witter who seemed to snap out of it first. He ran into Hannah von Weiding at the Spring Regatta and they not only began dating, but moved in together for a brief time. I believe it would have been a more permanent relationship if the "Bar Harbor von Weidings" hadn't interceded and threatened to cut Hannah off financially if she continued to flaunt "this unfortunate circumstance". She tried to resist her family, but inevitably caved in. That was too bad. I liked Hannah. No longer hardened and too smart for her own good, she had matured into a beautiful, touchingly vulnerable young woman.

Pacey seemed to survive the breakup fine. For once, he accepted that he deserved the girl…he just didn't deserve her dysfunctional family. And that was a step forward.

The next time I saw Joey was another step back——into the past. I was surprised. Not that she was here in Capeside, but _where_ I found her: in front of "her" Wall. The now legendary brick wall with its heartfelt declaration, "Ask Me to Stay". I was driving past the Front Street Market and saw her standing in the empty lot next door, her face veiled in thought. When I mentioned my sighting to her the next day, Joey said she was amazed to see the message still so bold and clear, still beckoning her there; it was the first time in years she had seen it in broad daylight.

_**Lesson 6: Joey Potter body vocab**__- Eyes wide open, feet stationary. v. To take in something beyond comprehension. n. Realization leading to deeper belief._

Few people in town knew the true story of the Wall, but within weeks many colorful stories had been invented. Soon, each time there was talk of painting it over, petitions were collected to keep the wall as is. The Tourist Board loved it, pronouncing it a local landmark and using its image in brochures. It was an unsigned personal ad that had become a thing of mystery _and_ enchantment.

Joey blushed when I told her that, joking that she was doomed to become immortal in men's eyes.

When I saw her again that Christmas, the backdrop was even more telling. It was with Pacey outside the local toy shop. Pacey was loaded down with various sizes of shopping bags. He'd obviously doing some last-minute holiday shopping, and Joey grabbed a pair of bags so that she could tuck her arm within his. Pacey had dark circles under his eyes——Wes' illness and the Christmas rush had taken its toll on him——but his eyes positively twinkled. The couple walked down the street happily conversing and I began to wonder, even hope. Could this be a new beginning? The beginning of a beginning? Or just another distracted moment?

_**New Joey & Pacey vocab**__ - An interlude, lost in their own perfect world. v. Attraction trumping fear before reality transcends it all. n. The undying fantasy about what might have been or still could be._

None of the above, I guess. Joey got her "Pacey fix" and returned to New York after the holidays; Pacey stayed, immersed in his newfound responsibilities as Wes Rinehart, his boss and soon-to-be partner, got sicker and sicker. That winter, Pacey, ever the loyal friend, was always running off on one Wes emergency or another. But I couldn't figure out that oversized aquarium he requested help in finding——until I found out that it wasn't for Wes at all; it was for Joey. He spent weeks gathering the colorful pieces, a nod to their favorite story, _The Little Mermaid._ (_Their_ story was, appropriately, a sailor's fairy tale.) Then he hired a Manhattan exotic aquarium outlet to put everything together in Joey's apartment. Given that the whole thing took up enough space for a small sofa or coffee table, and Joey had always described her living room as being little more than a shoebox, I'll bet there were mixed feelings about that one!

But I also have no doubt that the gesture made her smile.

**zzzzzzzzzz**

I didn't hear about the new beau until the following summer. I had a new man in my life then, too——Richard Carlsen, who quickly became an integral part of all Leery family adventures. Richard and I invited the Potter/Wells family (Wells was Bodi's legal name) to Waldeck Island for the 4th of July weekend, but Joey begged off, alluding to a romantic tryst she had been promised with a very promising, very sexy young author. A few months later, Bessie confided in me that Joey had moved into Chris Devonshire's Westside apartment, and I knew it must be serious. I couldn't imagine Joey giving up her rent-controlled apartment for any other reason.

Love was the dominant emotion.

When Richard and I set a Spring 2008 date, Joey's name was on top of the wedding invitation list…and she was the first one to decline. With no small amount of disappointment, she explained to me that she and Chris were celebrating their one-year anniversary——no, they hadn't gotten married, just dating——and another romantic trip had been planned. Imagine my surprise then when she showed up in Capeside anyway. She was evasive and awkward around Dawson, never really owning up to the reason for changing her mind, but I suspected then (before even confirming it with Bessie) that the sneaky culprit was a change of _heart._

Throughout the years, one truth remained constant: Joey Potter was, to quote Woody Allen, "Certain only of what she did not want." Unfortunately, fear still ruled her heart, crippling her from enjoying the happiness she fought so hard to attain. Love without conflict, without sacrifice, was beyond her comprehension. (See Vocab Lesson #6.)

What turned her around and made the happy ending finish a real possibility? An angel in the form of Jennifer Lindley. Dear Jen had been ill for months and no one except Grams knew anything about it. When she collapsed at our wedding celebration, everyone rallied around her. But no one was more affected than Jack, Joey, Pacey and Dawson. The idea that they could lose their comrade in the blink of an eye seemed unfathomable. But the group stayed true to character until the end: Pacey in his efforts to keep things light; Dawson in his melancholy; Jack in his dedication to Jen and her baby; and Joey in her acceptance of the inevitable, even as it afforded her renewed friendship.

"Jen challenged me," she would later write, "made me acknowledge that I wasn't living the life I expected to lead——not by a long shot. She insisted that I choose…it was her dying wish, damnit. I was settled, content but not really happy——not like I expected to be. My passion wasn't writing or art. It was Pacey——and I had known that since I was 16. But the prospect of losing him again, being vulnerable to the kind of pain that nearly overwhelmed me when he disappeared the summer after high school. It left me content to have him in my life solely as a friend.

"A special friend. And that was enough when we were both still healing…then too little when the attraction was reborn——despite our 'best' attempts to squelch it…and decidedly deficient when our feelings were too strong to deny. How do you get the love of your life out of your system? I ran. Pacey did it and seemed to find peace, why couldn't I?"

Now we were getting somewhere!

_**Lesson 8: Joey & Pacey vocab**__ - To run from one's true feelings. v. To deny one's innermost desires. n. Selfless flight in search of a greater good._

Though I missed the signs earlier in the day (oops!), I suspected something was up when I saw Joey return to The Ice House just as the final mourners were leaving the wake. No, I wasn't spying; I was closing up my own establishment across the way. I had just turned off the last light when I saw the couple walk to Pacey's car, Joey's head resting on his shoulder much like it had been throughout much of the memorial——only this time it didn't appear to be in grief.

The next day, the pair slipped out of sight entirely. It didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out where: Pacey's boat was also gone. In the ensuing weeks, Pacey's presence as owner/greeter at The Ice House became disturbingly infrequent and I was about to make the proper inquiries when I got a call from my son. He'd just gotten off the phone with the happy couple. Pacey had popped the question and Joey & Pacey were not only getting married, they were expecting a baby in the Spring! (Like I said before, things always moved quickly in the Witter world.)

Dawson was startled——but happy for them; I was relieved. Yay!

**zzzzzzzzzz**

I was looking at some photos to put into an antique album I found; I thought a book of memories from childhood to present day would be a nice thing to bring to Jenny's christening party. The snapshots of Joey, Pacey & Dawson as endearing young tykes are clear favorites….But it's the ones I collected from Bodi and Jack after the wedding that I keep coming back to. There's best men Jack & Doug outside Trinity Church——look how beautiful that chapel is. Here's dear Grams…I have to pause for a minute. We lost Grams a few short months later….But look at her here with an equally precious Amy; she appears almost——serene.

Andie McPhee brought her beau. From England, no less. Ah! Gretchen and her husband, Jim, with their two kids…Pacey's parents, checking out the lovely floral arrangements. Alex looks cute here in his ringbearer's suit, just like his father (who doubled as the videographer in Dawson's absence)…The father of the bride, Mike Potter, dressed to the nine's——even though he could only come to the reception afterward. He was so proud! And of course I have to put Lily, the flower girl here.

Audrey Liddell showed up with half of John Mayer's band, and they took over the stage at the wedding reception. We danced the night away, leaving the newlyweds scarcely enough time to make their flight to London.

I also discovered a cache of long-lost photos of Lillian & Mike and Mitch & I when we were just starting our married lives in Capeside. I think I'll sneak those into the front pages. Grandma and Grandpa were quite the handsome couple. Look at that smile on Lillian! I had forgotten how much it resembled Joey's.

**zzzzzzzzzz**

So I stroll into the Potter B&B, book in hand, and am taken aback by the poignant family scene. Everyone has gathered around the new parents and baby and I am so touched I want to cry.

She's not my daughter…but she could have been. And, as I watch Joey with her brand new baby girl, I realize that I am as proud of her as her mother would have been. I am bursting with so much pride it's hard to contain myself. I feel like a mother welcoming her first grandchild into the family. In fact, I AM that mother.

Pacey smiles and walks over to me with Jenny in his arms. "Would you mind if we asked her to call you Grams?" he says, rocking her gently.

Once again, I am brought back into that family——not in the way I once imagined it would be but in the way it _should_ be.

"I would be honored," I respond with the utmost humility. Pacey places Jenny in my arms. I didn't know about you——no, I didn't, little one. You were their special secret.

Along with their love.


End file.
